


The Virtue of Nobility

by GuestPlease



Series: Follow the Spokes of the Wheel [1]
Category: Disenchantment (TV 2018)
Genre: Bean also fends off a Viking invasion, Bean puts on the crown, Bechdel Test Pass, Bentwood is brought up several times, Depictions of dealing with grief, Eldritch Powers, F/M, He's a devoted husband, I try to apply history, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, None of Bean's actions are forgotten, Pendergast loves his wife so much, Pregnancy, The first few chapters take place in between In Her Own Write and The Electric Princess, The issue of The Electric Princess/Tiabeanie Falls will be touched upon later, Unplanned Pregnancy, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-13 18:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 76,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuestPlease/pseuds/GuestPlease
Summary: "Zog rubbed his eyes. Of course he did—it was the middle of the night, and now he had to kill one of his best… not vassals. Not really servants either. Whatever. The point was, Pendergast had been porking—trying to pork?—Zog’s daughter, and he’d be lucky to get the shaft. The shaft was what Zog had been reconsidering naming the holes that dropped people in the ocean, but he was reconsidering that reconsideration now.“Dad, it’s not what you think.” Bean said, wrapped in a blanket.“Okay then. Explain t’me what you and Pendergast were doing in your room, with your clothes off and his pants down.” Zog sounded a lot more patient than he felt. Pendergast cringed."After Bean and Pendergast get caught fooling around, there's not much Zog can do except marry her off-- right? Hopefully she won't kill this one.





	1. How did it take her this long to have a sex scandal?

Zog rubbed his eyes. Of course he did—it was the middle of the night, and now he had to kill one of his best… not vassals. Not really servants either. Whatever. The point was, Pendergast had been porking—trying to pork?—Zog’s daughter, and he’d be lucky to get the shaft. The shaft was what Zog had been reconsidering naming the holes that dropped people in the ocean, but he was reconsidering _that_ reconsideration now.

“Dad, it’s not what you think.” Bean said, wrapped in a blanket.  
“Okay then. Explain t’me what you and Pendergast were doing in your room, with your clothes off and his pants down.” Zog sounded a lot more patient than he felt. Pendergast cringed.

“Okay, so I was down at Luci’s bar—you know Luci’s bar.”  
“I am aware that yer cat has a bar, yes.”  
“It’s the economy, sire.” Odval muttered in his ear.

Bean squirmed in place and shot a look at Pendergast, who was keeping his eyes—eye?—fixed on the floor. Smart man.  
“So I was down at the bar, and there was this creepy guy hitting on me—”  
“Don’t tell me I’m lookin’ at ‘im.” Zog muttered.  
“Dad, stop interrupting! I threw a mug of beer at his head, but I spilled all my beer and that’s when Luci usually cuts me off. He said he couldn’t make an exception even if I was sober, which was a _dick move_—so Pendergast did a really nice thing and gave me _his_ beer.”

Zog felt a headache coming on. Jesus, his only daughter would probably fall for a cardboard box trap if there was a stein of beer in it, the stinking drunk.  
“So we got to talking—he’s a lot nicer when he’s not around you and Odval—”  
Pendergast, smart man that he was, visibly cringed again.  
Bean continued, not noticing. “And he said since he was going back to the castle anyway, would I walk with him so I wouldn’t have to sneak in? Do you know how nice it is not to have to sneak in for once? So we were still talking and before I knew it we were in my room, and I didn’t really want him to leave yet.”

Both Odval and Zog looked pointedly at the blanket she was wearing. Then, since Odval had that weird-looking third eye of his, he looked at where the laces on Pendergast’s pants had been hastily redone.  
“Clearly.” Odval said. “Pendergast, I expected better of you.”  
“Forget what you expected—_I_ expected better of you.” Zog added. “Geez—I let you into my home, train you myself, make you captain of my guard, occasionally pay you, and you fuck my daughter?”

“Okay, the point was, there was no actual fucking going on.” Bean said loudly.  
Pendergast, still looking at the floor, nodded vigorously.  
“I’m afraid to ask.” Zog said, before looking at Odval. “You find out what they did. I’m not listening to this.”  
He stuck his fingers in his ears.

Bean gesticulated, which shifted the blanket on Pendergast’s side—didn’t help the kid’s situation—and… what was she doing? She held up her hand, and pointed to her tongue, and now Pendergast was cringing so hard that Zog almost felt bad for him. Odval looked appalled, so Zog guessed it was time for him to take his fingers out.

“Why were your clothes off, Princess Tiabeanie?”  
“…I kinda forgot to put on my nightgown.” Bean muttered.  
“Pendergast, she was so drunk she forgot to clothe herself, and you were doing _that_?” Odval demanded.  
That made Pendergast raise his head. “She’s not _that_ drunk. And it’s not like I touched her without— I asked beforehand!”  
“Please, never mention hands to me again.” Odval looked vaguely sickened.

“How’d you even know what we were doing?” Bean whined.  
“Your little elf friend came tearing into my room saying you were under attack, and it was probably Dagmar. Wonder of wonders, I called the guards—except there was only one guard supposed to be on duty tonight besides the ones letting you loons in and out of the castle.”

“Elfo? What was Elfo doing in…?”  
“He wasn’t _in_ the room.” Pendergast muttered. “I would have noticed.”  
“Probably just trying to creep in unannounced so he could smell your hair or somethin’ while you were sleepin’.” Zog added. “Problem was, you weren’t actually sleepin’, you were dishonorin’ our family name.”

Odval cleared his throat. “Sire, there may be a slim chance that Tiabeanie is still… eligible for marriage, shall we say. I’m having the maid, Bunty, check the sheets now.”  
Fortuitously, this was the moment Bunty re-entered with the sheets. She held them up for Zog to inspect.

“Okay, starting in the left top corner, lookin’ good, lookin’ pristine… movin’ to the right top corner, there’s a stain there that looks kinda like gravy, but not like my daughter’s ruined the sanctity of marriage… movin’ down to the right bottom corner, good, good… lookin’ at the middle, kinda dirty but just normal dirt… seems like I owe you kids an apology… just gotta check the left bottom corner and…”

There were a few stark drops of blood, seeped into the cloth.  
“Bunty, was this there beforehand?” Odval asked.  
“Oh no milord, I changed these just this morning! ‘Ere, touch them, they’re still wet. He’s definitely broken her hymen.”  
“What?! That’s crazy!” Bean said. “It didn’t hurt—you always said it would hurt when it broke! And besides, his hands weren’t on the sheets, they were on me!”

Pendergast looked a lot like he wanted to melt into the floor.  
“Beanie, what are you doing? Let the man die in peace.” Zog ordered. “It’s like you _want_ him to be tortured to death, or somethin’. And lemme tell ya, if you _wanted_ him to be tortured to death after this kinda thing… lemme just say, it’d go real bad for him. On like, a personal level, since you’re my daughter. Not because it would change anything about you gettin’ married or anything like that.”  
“Wh—no, I don’t want you to torture him to death! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“He’s effectively voided your warranty.” Odval huffed. “That’s something wrong.”  
“Well… since you guys think that we… what if I’m pregnant?” Bean said, as though she had just won the argument. “Then… no one will want to marry me!”  
“Beanie, you keep saying things that make me want to kill him.” Zog said. “But you also don’t want him to die? Make up your mind.”

Odval sighed. “Princess Tiabeanie appears to be suggesting that she and Sir Pendergast get married. …honestly, this is probably the best offer we’re going to get for her at this point, especially after this mess.”  
“…okay, tell me why I shouldn’t, so I can say no.” Zog said.

“Well, for one thing, they’re nowhere near the same level of nobility. Tiabeanie is a princess. Pendergast is the second son of a second son of a minor noble. He’s not going to inherit anything, that’s why he’s here in the first place. His maternal grandfather is—was—a hedge knight.” Odval sighed. “_But_… Tiabeanie has a point. Surely if they were up to hanky-panky, Pendergast will find marrying her preferable to death. On the other, other hand, we were hoping that marriage would be a stabilizing influence for Tiabeanie, sire. This would be anything but, partially because her status as opposed to his would mean that she would continue to run rampant. I would not recommend raising his status either, but… there’s no clear cut solution.”

Zog grumbled. “So, you’re saying my daughter can marry the guy we just caught with her in her bedroom, keep runnin’ ‘round the kingdom like a hooligan, and her purpose wouldn’t even be to have sons?”  
“Well sire, if she _were_ to have a son, there would be a spare in case anything ever happened to Derek. Or an heir, if you yourself were to fall in battle and Derek was to ascend to the throne before having sons of his own. But really, this… ugh, union, doesn’t change anything about her place in the hierarchy of Dreamland. It was always hoped that if she had had multiple sons, one might serve as an heir until Derek had sons of his own.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. You’re saying if I marry Pendergast, nothing changes.” Bean said.  
Pendergast shot her a look. “_Some _things would change.”  
“Okay, okay. I marry Pendergast—and I get to have sex, but nothing changes about my life? I don’t have to leave Dreamland—I don’t have to _die_ in childbirth if I don’t want to? Why didn’t anyone tell me about this before?”  
Everyone in the room aside from Bunty (read: all the men in the room) glared at her, albeit for different reasons.

“I am not just a means to an end!” Pendergast huffed.  
“Sure, you’re not. Now let the nobles speak.” Odval said in his placating-Bean-so-she-goes-away tone. “Princess, surely you know that sex means you’ll have to play the odds of potentially dying in childbirth anyway. There’s no sex without procreation, everyone knows that.” (Everyone in the room was also highly aware that was a lie, but no one had ever bothered to take Bean aside and tell her _how_ to use birth control. Bunty certainly didn’t know.)  
“This is supposed to be a punishment!” Zog exclaimed. “I’m _really_ considerin’ just sendin’ both of you to the dungeon. Make this Stan’s problem instead of _my_ problem.”  
“What? Just for fooling around? That’s _nuts, _Dad!” Bean argued.

“A woman is meant to be _chaste_, Tiabeanie.” Odval commented. “You continue to fly in the face of expectations, and for what?”  
“Odval, stop sayin’ my daughter’s a whore. Only I get to say that.” Zog said. “Eugh… I’m going back to bed. Is anyone on duty to escort Pendergast to the dungeon?”

“…no.” Odval admitted.  
“Great. Lock Bean in her room, lock him in the barracks, I’ll deal with this tomorrow. If either of you leave the rooms before I say so, I’m havin’ your heads chopped off immediately. Someone make sure the elf is out of my room, he unsettles me.”

“Come now, princess, let’s get your sheets back on your bed.” Bunty said, clutching Bean’s arm in an iron grip in one hand and the sheets draped over the other.  
She made the bed, and left. Bean heard the click of the lock behind her—like she was going to go anywhere at this time of night. She’d already gone out drinking.

“So, what happened?” Luci asked out of the darkness.  
“…I think I’m going to marry Pendergast.” Bean replied, sitting down on her bed and waiting for her eyes to adjust.  
“Wh-wh… _marriage_?” Elfo said, scrambling up onto the bed with her. “Wh…? Where’s Dagmar?”  
“I dunno.” Bean shrugged.

“Why were you screaming earlier if you weren’t under attack?” Elfo continued.  
Luci put two and two together and started chuckling. “Oh my god… you and Pendergast? Wow, I saw you two leave together but I never thought… _wow_.”  
“Did he save you from Dagmar? Is that why you’re marrying him? We can get you out of this.” Elfo continued.

Luci hopped up next to them. “Yeah, didn’t you say you wanted to marry for ‘true love’ or something? Is Pendergast your true love now?”  
“I mean… I don’t _dislike_ him.” Bean said, getting up and putting on the nightgown sprawled over her couch. “He’s got really nice… hands.”  
“Hands.” Luci repeated.

“Stop enjoying this! _I’m_ supposed to enjoy this.” Bean huffed.  
“Oh, understandable. Share with the class though, Bean. Is it his _hands_ you like or his _fingers_?”  
Bean flopped on the bed, groaning.  
Luci snickered.

“You want us to help you out of this marriage, right?” Elfo asked worriedly.  
Bean rolled over to look at them. “Not… really? I don’t know, I was kinda offered a deal I won’t get anywhere else. Plus, Pendergast would die if I don’t.”  
“Oh, it’s just to save his life then. That’s cool.” Elfo said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you fall in love. With someone else.”

Luci snorted. “Have you met the guy? He’d mind.” He hopped onto Bean’s shoulder. “Guess you stopped believing in love, huh? Smart move. It’s a sham. Besides, you already know he’s very talented with the _sword_, from what your dad was saying you guys did.”

Luci was promptly thrown halfway across the room. He landed on the couch.  
“He didn’t—I wasn’t…!” Bean began. “You guys _have_ to believe me! Sure, I touched it, but…”  
“I don’t think he’s that talented with the sword.” Elfo said. “He left his knife behind, unsheathed.”  
“No, I think Zog would have had a heart attack right there if it was _unsheathed_.” Luci cackled.

“No, it’s true! I accidentally cut my finger on it when I was looking for clues as to where Dagmar had taken you—”  
“You mean when she was dragged downstairs to the well-lit throne room by Odval.”  
“Wait a second. Elfo, is this your blood on the sheet?” Bean asked.

“Uh huh. I’m okay now though. It wasn’t deep.” Elfo held up his finger as proof.  
“…Huh.” Bean said. “I… okay. I don’t know what to say to that.”  
“You could kiss it better.” Elfo said.

“No, I think her _new fiancé_ might object.” Luci pointed out, curling up in a circle to go to sleep. “Nice going, Elfo. Once again, you are your own worst enemy.”  
“What’d I do?” Elfo asked. “It’s not my fault I didn’t see the knife.”  
“So many innuendos to make about that, so little time.” Luci sighed contentedly. “Man, I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

“Where’s the knife now, Elfo?” Bean asked.  
“Kicked it under the bed.” Elfo replied. “Why?”  
“Because it stands between me and getting laid.” Bean muttered.

“What?” Elfo squawked.  
“Jesus, no one’s getting any sleep with you around, are they?” Luci sighed, before jumping off the couch and scampering over. “Humans have _opinions_ about women having sex. They have even stronger opinions once that woman goes from a virgin to… well, deflowered.”

“What’s a virgin?” Elfo asked.  
“Man, I wish I could say, ‘you are’.” Luci sighed.  
“Someone who hasn’t had sex. Like, genital to genital sex.” Bean replied from under the bed.  
“…humans have a word for that? _Why_?” Elfo wondered.

“Hmm… okay, let’s look at Bean and Kissy as examples. Both are princesses. What’s the difference?”  
“Bean’s human and Kissy’s an elf?”  
“I meant in terms of promiscuity. Or, more accurately, their fathers’ reactions to that promiscuity.” Luci tried. “Like how Kissy can do what she wants, but men die if they touch Bean.”  
Elfo pondered this. “I mean, the King of the Elves tried to kill me.”

Luci nodded. “Yes. You get it. Zog tries to kill men who touch Bean, because at the end of the day, Bean is an _investment_. She’s not worth as much if she doesn’t have the _blood seal_.” He emphasized ‘blood seal’ in a spooky voice.

“The… blood seal?” Elfo asked.  
“Oh yes.” Luci said, schooling his face to appear serious. “Most human women have one. They believe that the one who breaks the seal owns the woman. Zog is mad because he thinks Pendergast broke the seal on his daughter—and since Bean is a princess, her blood seal is worth more than say, Bunty’s. Or Mop Girl’s. So if Bean acted like Kissy, a lot more men would be dead, and Bean would have been sent away long ago. There are some lines even Bean can’t cross. …mostly ones having to do with misogyny.”

“Luci, quit telling Elfo how human society works. Where’s that knife…? Oh, there it is… ow!” Bean knocked her head on the bottom of her bed before crawling out. It was a standard issue castle knife, a bit dusty from being kicked under the bed, with dried blood at the tip.

“What are you going to do with that? Murder your dad?” Luci asked.  
“I’m just gonna keep it somewhere safe.” Bean said, albeit somewhat uncertainly.  
“If you go to your dad with that, you don’t have to marry Pendergast. Everything can go back to normal.” Elfo said. “Unless, you know, this is one of the things that upsets the status quo.”

“Yeah, those don’t happen that often. I think we’re due for a new one.” Luci added, looking towards the window. “Maybe a fake dragon. Maybe getting you to kill your dad. Options, options.”  
“I just want to know where it is.” Bean said.  
“So you can murder Pendergast on your wedding night?” Luci asked.

“What is it with you and murder today?” Bean huffed.  
“I don’t know, just in a murdery kind of mood.” Luci mused.  
Bean brought the knife to the mantel, where there was an unused jewelry box. She dumped out all the jewelry, and stuck the knife in before replacing it on the mantel.  
“No one will ever find it there.” Luci muttered sarcastically, as Bean returned to bed and curled up for the night.


	2. Family Bonds

For someone who’d been up so late last night, Pendergast was up at the crack of dawn, as usual. Soldiers didn’t sleep heavily—really, neither did men who might die at any moment.  
He glared out of the window of the barracks; Turbish and Mertz were being stupid in the courtyard, and there was no one there to whip them into shape. If only he hadn’t… if only _she_ hadn’t…! This is what came of breaking the rules! He slipped up _one time_, and he’d be lucky to keep his head, let alone his job.

He was startled out of his reverie by the door swinging open.  
“Your Majesty.” He hadn’t formally bowed, 90 degrees style, to Zog in years. He hadn’t really had to.  
“Walk with me, Gast.” Zog said.

So. He was back to Gast—awkward, gangly squire.  
Zog was silent for a few minutes as they both walked, backs straight, arms behind their backs, watching their surroundings. You can’t just stop being a soldier.

“You know, in many ways you’re the son I never had.” Zog began.  
“You… have a son.” Pendergast pointed out. “Your son isn’t even that much younger than Bean—”  
“Shut up, this isn’t about Derek. Derek’s… Derek was fine stuck in a tower by himself for five months. Also, don’t call my daughter Bean, I’m still mad at you about that.” Zog huffed. “Where was I?”

“You said I’m like a son to you.” Pendergast replied.  
“Yes. You’ve been with me for… what, 5 years? You’re a good kid, Gast. You made a mistake, I get that. You’re lucky I like you, or I wouldn’t consider it a _mistake_.” Zog narrowed his eyes.  
Pendergast nodded quickly. “Yes sir.”  
“How long, Gast?” Zog sighed. “’Cause when you first came to court, I didn’t think you liked her much. You avoided her.”

“She was _fourteen_. She was annoying.” Pendergast protested.  
“You were _seventeen_.” Zog mimicked. “You were just as annoying, and worse, had never been around a girl near your own age before. How long, Gast?”  
“Since the uh… let’s say the incident with the giant, I guess? If I had to pick a date. That whole thing was… she’s something else. Sir.”

“…I’m going to count the five months of being turned to stone.” Zog said. “So, I’m going to guess she knows, and you two like each other. That’s good.”  
“Well, I… it’s more complicated than that.” Pendergast protested, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.  
Zog scowled at him. “You took my daughter’s virginity, Pendergast.”

“That wasn’t… I didn’t mean to! I didn’t realize…” Pendergast trailed off.  
Zog sighed. “I know, it’s awkward. Truth be told, we’re lucky it didn’t happen earlier, with someone not as nice as you. Do you know why I called you to court, five years ago?”  
“You needed a squire in the Lemon Crusade that you were going on.” Pendergast said.

“Yeah, but I always intended for us all to come back.” Zog pointed out. “I picked you because you seemed like a good kid. A good fighter. Reminded me a bit of myself, back when Yog was set to inherit. You and Bean were about the same age, I figured you two might make friends. Didn’t expect it to go _this_ far, but that’s not the point.”

“I didn’t know.” Pendergast said.  
“I know you didn’t know, that’s why I’m telling you.” Zog snapped. “You’re a lot like me. That infuriates her sometimes. But you’re enough of yourself to make it work. Word of advice, if this wedding thing goes through, be a friend to her. Take it from a man who has two ex-wives who hate him.” His moustache drooped.  
“Sir, what happened with Queen Dagmar wasn’t your fault.” Pendergast offered. He didn’t comment on Oona.

“I know that! I’m telling _you_ so you can have a good marriage, and make my daughter happy. That’s going to be your job now—being her friend, making her happy.”

Pendergast fiddled with his hands nervously, a habit from when they were in the Lemon Crusades and he’d had armor too big for him. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have gauntlets on right about then, wrong size or not.  
Zog recognized it. “See? There’s some good old Gast stuff. Spit it out, kid.”  
“What if I can’t make her happy?” Pendergast blurted out.

Zog’s face turned sad. “That’s not your fault if you can’t, as long as you try. She likes talking to you.”  
“Sometimes she doesn’t. She can get… if I say things like, ‘you’re a woman, you’re not invited to council sessions’, she gets angry. She challenges that. Do I follow the natural order of our world, or...?” Pendergast had moved to pulling on his cuffs.  
“Yeah, nice to see you’ve met Bean.” Zog snorted. “Look, Beanie’s usually right. _But_, on principle, she still needs to be able to defend her position. Don’t give her too much shit, don’t take none either. That’s the kind of thing that happened with Dagmar.”

“No offense, but I don’t want to… be like you and Dagmar.” Pendergast said.  
“None taken. Dagmar’s a witch who turned my kingdom to stone and kidnapped my daughter, and I was the idiot too blind to see it. Bean’s not her mom. She’s too direct—too… in your face. She gets that from me.” Zog chuckled wetly. “But I’m sayin’, don’t be afraid to argue with her, just ‘cause you’ll be my son in law. Although, if you raise a hand to my daughter, I’ll chop it off. Capische?”

“I’m not going to hit her.” Pendergast spat.  
“Good kid.” Zog clapped him on the back. “I mean, I knew you wouldn’t, given the uh… anyway. Thought I might as well say it.”  
“So you’re not feeding me to the crabs?” Pendergast said, somewhat sarcastically. A fond sarcasm.  
“Not yet.” Zog said. “Don’t make me regret that! But... like I said, there are a lot worse options out there. I’m sure you’re aware of a few.”

“Merkimer.” Pendergast pointed out almost immediately.  
“Hey, don’t knock Merkimer. He was my only company when Bean and her weird cat and elf companion were gone for five months and everyone was turned to stone. Besides, being a pig seems to have made him a more decent guy.”  
Pendergast crossed his arms—which at least got him to leave his sleeves alone. “I’m sure he is.”

“Gast, why even… oh, geez.” Zog passed a hand over his eyes. “This is what about what Odval said last night, isn’t it? You’ve been sitting in there, nursin’ your wounded ego? C’mon, Gast, pull it together. It doesn’t matter to me—and it clearly doesn’t matter to Bean—if you’re not a freaking prince. You’re not lesser for not being one. I mean, you are, that’s the point, but you’re not _lesser_, y’know? No point bein’ bitter over something that doesn’t matter. Besides, you’re doing a lot better than Merkimer. You’ve got… human legs… the ability to have sex with human women, even if it is my daughter… friends… your brother’s not dead… okay ignore that one. You’ve got a job, a salary… uh… parents?”

Pendergast glowered at him.  
“Right, ignore that part too.” Zog scratched the back of his head. “Geez… I didn’t want to bring out Prickly Pendergast today, y’know? I just wanted to have a heart to heart with my future son in law, I didn’t mean anything by it. I wanted to talk like before.”

“Right.” Pendergast replied. “Like _before_. Nothing’s changed since then, after all.”  
“Don’t sass me, Pendergast. I may rethink the crabs.” Zog warned. “You wanna know something? You hide behind your defense mechanisms, ‘cause without them, you kinda have a tendency to wear your heart on your sleeve. I dunno, maybe it’s just ‘cause I already know that deep down, you’re still kinda a scared kid and you know you can be honest with me.”  
“I’m not scared of anything.” Pendergast spat.

“Yeah, yeah. I remember that whole spiel. I also remember it ended with Bean knocking you flat on your ass unintentionally five years ago.” Zog said. “Oh yeah, honesty’s also good in a marriage. And like… feelings… and shit. I don’t know.”  
“Oona?” Pendergast guessed.  
“No, actually, it was Ursula. My uh… my lady bear lover.”

There was silence for a minute. “Wait, she was an actual bear?”  
Zog clapped a hand on Pendergast’s shoulder. “Don’t ask questions. Go get your armor on—make sure that your idiots don’t kill each other while you’re not looking. Maybe we’ll all just pretend this never happened. But if she tries to run away again, I’m not sinking time and resources into tryin’ to force another wedding on her.”

Pendergast had no doubt that she, the elf, and the weird cat would probably be happy to live in the Enchanted Forest for the rest of their lives. They wouldn’t be long lives, but that probably wouldn’t stop them. He put on his armor, and went to corral Mertz and Turbish before they could do something like fall through an open Zog-trap to the ocean below. (Never forget Johnson and Johnson and Johnson—all three idiots fell through the _obvious hole in the ground_, or had potentially jumped, no one was quite sure.) He was never unaware of the fact that he had this job for two incredibly similar reasons; 1) he was the smartest of Zog’s knights, 2) he was the longest lasting of Zog’s knights. Or the Knights of the Zog Table. Whatever.

“Turbish! Mertz! I thought I told you two that if I’m not here, you’re supposed to practice hitting each other with the wooden swords.” He barked.  
Turbish and Mertz exchanged a look.  
“Where are the wood swords?” Turbish asked. They were right behind him, as always. As always, Pendergast didn’t point this out.  
Mertz looked at the sky. “Where were you? Usually you’re here before now.”

“Ohhh, right! Yes, we already practiced.” Turbish said.  
“It’s not late enough in the day that I’m ready to believe that.” Pendergast huffed. “And I was talking to the king, Mertz.”

“Oh, about the thing with Princess Bean?” Mertz asked innocently.  
Pendergast glared at him. “_What_ thing with Princess _Tiabeanie_?”  
Turbish looked like he was trying to remember something, which was very bad. That meant that gossip had reached _Turbish_, of all people.  
Mertz pressed on, since he was a different kind of stupid. “We just heard something about you and the princess…”

“Mertz, nothing happened, and I wouldn’t tell you if it had.” Pendergast snapped. “And if you have time to gossip, you two have time to run laps around the courtyard.”  
“Aww.” Turbish said. “In full armor?”  
“Yes in full armor! How would you expect to run in a battle if you can’t run around in ideal conditions!” Pendergast leaned against the wall to watch these last two idiots work themselves into shape.

Bean finally woke up, dressed, and headed downstairs. “Hey, Bunty!” She said, grabbing a bun from the kitchens. “How’s Stan? Any uh… new work?”  
“No one in particular.” Bunty said. “Just the usual criminals. Democratists, tax evaders, that sort of thing.”  
“Fair enough.” Bean said in between bites. “Uh… where’s my Dad?”

“I think he’s holding court.” Bunty said. “Though far be it for me to track the movements of a king—could you imagine?” She chuckled to herself as Bean slipped out of the room. She was still munching the bun when she reached the throne room. She waited _very _patiently—okay, not that patiently, but as patiently as she could until Zog said, “You’re all dismissed for the day. Except you, Beanie.”

The peasants filed out.  
“So… what’s uh… what’s happening to Pendergast?” Bean asked, trying to remain casual.  
Zog shrugged. “Nothing’s happening to Pendergast. I can’t really afford to execute the guy for one mistake—who’d lead my guards then? The stupid blond one? The brown-haired idiot?”  
“Oh, okay. Did _he_ say it was a mistake, or…?” Bean trailed off. “’Cause, I kind of spent last night psyching myself up for marriage, and I decided, _is it so bad_? I mean, if I get to stay here and basically have nothing change?”

Zog raised both eyebrows, feigning interest.  
Bean pushed on. “’Cause, you know, I might be _pregnant_.”  
“That won’t work a second time, Tiabeanie. Your hymen may be gone, but given what you yourself described yesterday, that doesn’t anatomically work.” Odval huffed from behind the throne.  
“Well, I don’t know where babies come from.” Bean said defensively.

“Yes, you do.” Zog huffed. “The wedding’s still on, by the way.”  
“Oh, great! I mean, oh no… marriage…” Bean said weakly.  
Zog sighed. “Odval, could you give us a minute?”

Odval bowed and melted away into the shadows.  
“What are you doing, Beanie?” Zog asked.  
“I’m getting married, isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” Bean pointed out.  
“Bean, why are you going along with this? What I want you to do, and what you actually do, are usually two different things.”

Bean fidgeted. “Well… I don’t have to change who I am for this.”  
Zog patted the chair that she normally sat in, and she joined him. “Beanie, I’m going to deny it if you ever tell anyone I said this, but if this isn’t what you want, don’t do it. It’s not fair to you _or_ Pendergast.”  
“Nothing has to change for him either!” Bean said quickly.

Zog patted her head. “I think I get it now. You don’t want to grow up, do you Bean? I always thought you’d be happy to leave childhood behind—yours was kinda sad, kid. Things have to change, unless you have a good reason why they shouldn’t.”  
Bean thought of the knife in her room. “No, you’re right, I messed up. There should be consequences.”

“That’s real mature of you, Bean.” Zog leaned back in his chair. “Listen, Beanie, how do you feel about Pendergast?”  
“He’s… brave.” Bean tried.  
Zog scowled. “Not what _I_ want to hear! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what you actually _feel_. I’m not going to let this go through if you just lead the poor kid along, he deserves better than that.”

“Wow, Dad, I didn’t know you and Pendergast were that close.” Bean said.  
“There are lots of things you don’t know. Latin, for example.” Zog pointed out, before motioning for her to continue.

“He is… he can be _so_ infuriating!” Bean began. “He’s just like you, and Odval, and every other guy in this kingdom! He can be so _patronizing_ about it too! He’s… he’s not boring though. He’s kind of fun, when you’re not around, and he doesn’t have to focus on being such a dick. And… I don’t know, I guess he challenges me? I challenge him too. It… wow, do we make each other better? Huh, I always thought I was at my best when I was really drunk. Like not so drunk that I black out, but after I vomit a bit. That’s when my headspace is—”

“Bean, shut up about being drunk.” Zog ordered, before rubbing his temples. “Right, so you’re in love with Pendergast.”  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I am not _in love_ with Pendergast. He follows the rules, and I break them! He’s kind of a dick!”  
“And you’re kind of an asshole.” Zog pointed out.

Bean shook her head vehemently. “Love is a _really_ strong word, Dad. I mean… I like him. When he’s not being annoying that is. I’d like to get to know him better.”

“That’s better than I ever thought you were going to get, if I’m being honest. God—or Gods—I am so good at bringing random children to the court to make my children happy. Remind me to find someone similar for Derek, wouldja?”  
“What do you mean?” Bean asked.

“I’ve gone over this already, but I guess here goes; I thought, years ago, you and Pendergast could be friends. He’s a good kid, you’re a good kid. He’s your age.”  
“Dad, he’s three years older than me.”  
“I know! All this time, I thought you’d marry a man in your forties, and you might be lucky to be a second wife, maybe even a third!” Zog chuckled. “But if both you and Pendergast are happy with this, then you’re legally his problem, not mine.”  
“Nice, Dad.” Bean crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

“Look, Bean, there doesn’t seem to be any perfect solution. I mean, unless your hymen _is_ intact.” Zog chuckled, because chuckling was easier than reconsidering dropping Pendergast into the sea. He was going to root for these kids, dammit. “But I need you to understand that if you go through with this, things are going to fundamentally change. Not completely. Not all at once. But he’s not an escape from the dungeon card.” (Zog had rescinded that card after everyone and their mother pulled one out at inopportune moments. Mostly, he had rescinded it through dropping them into the sea.)

“I know.” Bean said petulantly.  
“Do you? Because if you’re going to freak out and have a scene, I’d rather get it over with now to spare the shame.” Zog huffed. “I’ll make sure the idiots are on the gate, you can take your weird little friends, and go running off into the forest. You don’t have to come back. You can stay free out there.” Zog was a firm believer in covering all bases.

Bean’s mouth twisted in indecision. “No. I don’t want to leave Dreamland, that’s… I just want something to stay the same. Something to stay safe. It just seems like wherever I look, I’m losing stuff, or I’m realizing it was bad all along, and I feel guilty for it.”  
Zog patted her gently on the shoulder. “That’s why I got rid of _everything_ that reminds me of Dagmar.”  
“Well, I mean, you didn’t get rid of me.” Bean pointed out.

Zog scowled. “I’m considerin’ it. If the nuns would take you back, you’d probably already be headed out that way.”  
Bean laughed nervously. “So, uh, when’s the wedding?”  
Zog leaned back in his chair. “Well, you see, Beanie, there are appearances to keep up.”  
Bean cringed. “Not another huge kingdom-wide wedding in Dagmar’s dress.”

Zog snorted. “Of course not. This is a shame wedding. No, Odval’s looking into whether this is a bride price or a dowry situation—and that’s not even getting into a bride service or dower. Usually, you’d think dowry, but the holy book has some surprising insights that I don’t really want to think about.”  
“Wh—can I see?” Bean asked.

“What? Let a woman read the holy book?” Zog squawked. “Out of the question.”  
“What about the arch-druidess?” Bean asked.  
“Bean, I’m surprised at you. She’s transcended being a woman by virtue of having male power placed upon her. She’s more than a woman.”  
Bean raised an eyebrow. “_Really_, that’s how you’re playing this. What if I just get someone to read it to me?”

Zog leaned back in his chair, and waved at her dismissively. “Good luck finding someone with a penis who will listen to you and can actually read.”  
“What about Derek?”  
“Hey, no, that’s cheating!” Zog called as Bean ran out of the room. “…wait, why do I even care?”

“…and that’s why I need you to read the holy book for me.” Bean said.  
Derek stroked the head of his teddy bear thoughtfully. “Bean, since when do you play by the rules?”  
“I… just don’t want to necessarily get the guards called on me right now.” Bean said.  
Derek nodded slowly. “Because you and Pendergast had sex.”

“Wh—no! We didn’t!” Bean said quickly. “How do you even know about that?”  
“Bunty told everyone.” Derek replied. “I don’t even think she meant to. The whole kingdom knows by now.”  
Bean grimaced. “Okay, fine, that’s cool. …can you show me the book now, please?”  
Derek turned his attention back to his teddy bear. “Hmm… it’s rare that you come to me asking for help. I _could_ be the bigger person, but…”

“Just tell me what you want.” Bean huffed.  
“I want you to be nice to me. And at least one hour of every day I get to hang out with you and your friends.” Derek said quickly. “You don’t even have to be doing anything, but please don’t ignore me.”  
“…Okay, that’s kind of sad, so okay.” Bean agreed.

Derek smiled, ear to ear, then lurched forward and hugged her. Bean, taken off-guard, patted his head similar to how Zog had done earlier. Then Derek grabbed her by the hand. “Come on, let’s go to the library.”

“You know where the library is?” Bean asked.  
“Yeah.” Derek said off-handedly. “I spend most of my time there, because no one really talks to me since Mama’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one doesn't get a historical note. This one gets me pointing out that I only realized 'Pendergast' was a surname around chapter fifteen.   
He does actually have a reason for a surname being his first name in this fic. He does not know it.
> 
> As for his age, Bean is canonically 19. Someone in another fic called Pendergast 'the old knight' and that... doesn't seem right to me. He acts like he's seen it all, done it all, but as this fic points out-- he's kind of bluffing about that. He very much has the vulnerability of youth.


	3. Unprecedented amount of royals in the throne room

“So, what’s all this… marriage stuff Dad was talking about having Odval figure out?” Bean asked, snatching a torch off of the wall as they walked down into the library.   
“Well, a bride price is a sum of money or goods that the groom pays the family of the bride. Usually, it’s done in societies where labor is more important than capital, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Father tried to drain Pendergast dry of money.” Derek said, holding his teddy bear close.

“Nah… he likes the guy, apparently didn’t have him tortured or anything.” Bean said.   
“And he thinks Pendergast is the son he never had.” Derek added softly.   
“What? No, hey, he doesn’t think that.” Bean said quickly. “Don’t get upset, little guy.”   
Derek sniffled. “He _does_. I heard him and Pendergast talking earlier. Father cares a lot about _him_—maybe more than he cares about either of us.”

“That’s not true.” Bean said. “You—you’re his male heir! You’re his son! I… I told you about how I was jealous of you after the Slimy incident, right?”   
“Yeah.” Derek said in a small voice.   
“And I still kind of am. You’re _smart_ Derek, smarter than anyone knows. You survived on your own for five months, and you did better than Dad and Merkimer did.” Bean smiled, and Derek gave a watery smile back. “So, since you know all this stuff—uh, what’s a ride service?”

“Bride service.” Derek corrected. “Ride service is that guy who gives people free rides as long as they’re going near the plague pits.”   
“Oh yeah, that guy.” Bean gave a chuckle of recognition. “Wonder whatever happened to him.”   
“He died of plague.” Derek replied off-handedly. “Anyway, a bride service is a form of bride price, wherein it’s manual labor instead of money. If anything, this is what Father’s going to try to do, since he pays Pendergast’s salary and all. There’s an instance of it in the holy book.”

“So—what, I’m his salary now?” Bean huffed.   
“That _does_ seem like something Father would do…” Derek mused. “Unless Pendergast’s family pays part of the bride price.”   
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. Have you ever seen Pendergast’s family?” Bean asked.   
“No.”   
“Have you ever heard anything about them?”

“No. And I hear a lot of things.” Derek admitted. “Including things I’m not supposed to.”  
“Did he ever go visit them—especially after the eye thing?” Bean continued.   
“No.” Derek sighed. “God, it’s hard to remember him with two eyes.”   
Bean gave a snort of laughter. “Fair enough. I was about your age when I first met him. God, I kind of hated him then.”

“I remember.” Derek said. “You vented to me all about it at the time.”   
“Really?” Bean asked. “I don’t remember that.”   
“Yeah. ‘How come Dad lets this stranger go on the Lemon Crusades with him and not me’ this, and ‘pompous ass’ that and ‘Derek, stay out of my room’.”   
Bean chuckled. “Oh, yeah, you’re right. Um… I know what a dowry is, what’s a dower?”

“Oh, that’s… it’s like a bride price? The groom gives the bride a certain amount of money in case she’s widowed. Well, really, _when_ she’s widowed. That way she’s taken care of, even if it gets all complicated and legal. There’s also something called a ‘morning gift’, which is where it’s presented to the bride after the wedding, and she can have control of it throughout the marriage, but it’s also supposed to serve the same purpose. It was to take care of a wife and her children if they were of an inferior status and the husband… well, the children weren’t meant to inherit.”

“_Huh_. That’s… weird.” Bean said.   
“I mean, yeah, it’s not applicable to you, since you’re of the higher status, but I think it’s sweet. In our society that so often makes things harder for women, at least there’s a net in some cases so women don’t have to turn to things they’re uncomfortable with.” Derek said.   
“I mean, I guess. How do you know so much about this stuff in particular?” Bean asked.

Derek made his teddy bear’s hands wave at nothing. “A couple nights ago, I had a really bad dream. You killed a dragon, and then the man flying it kidnapped you. He took you to a place full of wonders, but he tried to kill you after you realized that he tried to kill Father. You came home, tried to warn everyone… you accidentally shot Father after struggling with Pendergast.”

Bean winced, but if it was at the ‘struggling with Pendergast’ or the part where she had shot their father, it was unclear. “I… with an arrow, or something?”   
“No, it was… it’s hard to explain.” Derek frowned in concentration. “More like an automated blowpipe? Father was dying, I had to be king… I don’t know how to be king, Bean. A-and then, you were on trial, and I was your judge, and… you escaped the dungeon before I could pass judgment. You needed to get the thing out of Father, but all you had was a knife, and I walked in… I thought you were going to kill him, Bean.” Tears were openly flowing now. “You were going to burn and Odval wanted me to light the fire and-and…”

“Hey, no, none of that’s gonna happen.” Bean said. “Dad’s great at somehow surviving—remember how he was eating gravel in the five months you guys were alone, and he was somehow fine? Or that time that he had gout, and it was never brought up again? Dad’s going to live for a really long time, okay Derek?”

Sniffling, he wrapped his arms around her.   
“Aw, gross, all over my tunic.”   
“Sorry.”   
“It’s okay, I have more. I’ve only got one brother.” Bean said.   
Derek gave her another watery smile. Maybe that was his default?

“We’re here.” Derek said, as they stepped out from a bookshelf. “The point of telling you about the dream was… well, I’ve been checking out the law and justice section a lot more, so I can be a good king.”   
“Derek, you’re not going to be good king, you’re going to be great.” Bean said. “Dad _never_ put that much effort in, and that’s most of what you need. Effort.”

Derek beamed at her. “Thanks, Bean. Here’s a copy of the holy book… you want me to read the passages you’re interested in?”

“Sure.”   
“Okay, here’s one; ‘If a man seduces a virgin who is not engaged, and lies with her, he must pay a dowry for her to be his wife. If her father absolutely refuses to give her to him, he shall pay money equal to the dowry for virgins.’ I think that means Pendergast would have to pay Father if you got married or not.”

“That’s awful.” Bean said, before asking, “Out of curiosity, how much would I be worth?”   
Derek opened the book to a different page. “Here’s another; ‘if a man finds a young woman that is a virgin, and who is not betrothed, and lay hold on her, and lie with her, and they be found; then the man that lies with her shall give unto the woman’s father 50 silver Dereks, and she shall be his wife; because he has violated her, he may not put her aside all her days.’”

“50 silver Dereks? I am worth more than 50 silver Dereks.” Bean huffed. “No offense, Derek.”   
“None taken. It’s a lot of money for peasants, though.” Derek said thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s a payment plan… anyway, you’re already married.”   
“You’re right—wait, _what_?” Bean said.

Derek pointed at the book. “Technically speaking, you’re already considered married. Unless Pendergast has to pay Father first, but that doesn’t make much sense since that much money would take a while to scrape together. I suppose that’s why sex is a part of the wedding night, to seal the deal. Congratulations on your marriage, Bean.”

“Wh… no. No no no, that’s not how it works, is it?” Bean asked.   
Derek tucked the book under his arm. “Well, there are two people we can ask—the Archdruidess, or Father. Technically speaking, we should ask the Archdruidess, but she scares me and Father has the divine right to rule. Somewhere in there, that surely means that God listens to his decisions—otherwise, why would He have struck down poor Uncle Yog?”

They left the library.   
“I mean, if Uncle Yog never died, Dad wouldn’t have married your mom. You wouldn’t exist.” Bean pointed out. “_I_ might not exist.”   
Derek made a non-committal noise. The trip to the throne room was a lot shorter than the trip from the tower.

Zog was talking to Pendergast. “I give you a budget for new knights every few weeks, and what happens? Dead knights!”   
“With all due respect, they were going to die anyway. Especially since we get sent on quests like, ‘find the giant’, ‘find the eternity pendant’.” Pendergast huffed, implying that all due respect wasn’t actually that much. “It’s better than having the three main ones we have now—counting me!—get squished and you having to train up new ones from scratch. Last night, there was only one guard protecting the royal family—”

There was the sound of a hole in the floor opening, and a clank of armor as Pendergast jumped to the side.

“Don’t get cute with me, Pendergast.” Zog warned, as Derek and Bean came into the room. “Oh, hey, it’s… both of you. This is rare. Why are you _both_ here?”   
“Bean’s already married.” Derek held up the book.

“Don’t say it like that!” Bean hissed.   
Derek tapped the passage. “See the one about the man and the unbetrothed virgin?”   
“I see it. What about it?” Zog asked.   
“Dah dah dah dah, payment of 50 silver Dereks, she shall be his wife.” Derek finished, before shutting the book. “They’re already married, right? Bean says no, because there was no ceremony, but how many of the people in Dreamland were actually wed in the chapel?”

Bean pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, but once again, there wasn’t actually any sex!”   
“Bean, he broke your hymen.” Zog said.   
“No he _didn’t_.” Bean burst out. Everyone stared at her, and she cleared her throat. “Not-not like in there, anyway.”

Pendergast opened and closed his mouth several times, before saying, “I’m so confused. Are we getting married or not?”   
“You _are_ married.” Derek insisted.   
“My daughter ain’t havin’ no ‘commoner’s wedding’.” Zog protested. “Even if both’a you keep insisting that there was no hymen breaking—sorry, Derek, to catch you up—”

“I _know_.” Derek whined in the tone of teenagers everywhere. “I heard it from Bunty. I heard it from Odval. I heard it from the kitchen maids, the stable hands, a note arrived from Mother, a note arrived from _Grandfather_, everyone in Dreamland knows! People _outside_ of Dreamland know! Weirdly, the only people who insist that it never happened are these two, and Elfo.”

“Ah, that’s just kind of how Elfo is.” Bean said.   
“He is oddly obsessed with you. He’s probably in denial right now.” Zog agreed.   
“Hey Bean, congratulations on the upcoming nuptials.” Merkimer said as he poked his head in the room.

Derek swooped him up before anyone could throw him out a hole in the floor. “See, _Merkimer_ knows.”   
“Well, really, by the time the story got to me it was so augmented and obviously flushed with smut that there’s no telling what actually happened.” Merkimer said. “I mean, really, Bean gesturing to all and sundry about Pendergast laying hands on her indecently, instead of just fucking like normal people? Ridiculous.”

Bean covered her face with her hands and Pendergast was staring at the hole in the floor that he’d avoided earlier like it was an escape.   
“I was just trying to prove that nothing that bad happened.” Bean said, muffled by her hands.   
“Whaddya mean _Bunty and Odval_?” Zog hissed, turning back to the problem at hand.

“Dad, Bunty’s not great at keeping secrets under pressure.” Bean said, still muffled by her hands.   
“Yeah, yeah, but what about Odval?”   
Luci chose this moment to appear. “Hey, didn’t you once tell me that Bunty and Odval were courtiers brought by Dagmar, and some of the only original ones left from when she first married you? How _weird_ that they’re spreading gossip about your daughter.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true.” Derek pointed out.   
“Besides, you’re the one that told me.” Merkimer added.   
Luci chuckled. “Yeah. I’m not even going to defend that, I just did it to piss Elfo off.”   
“Luci, c’mon, man!” Bean hissed.

Luci crawled around Zog’s throne. “Hey, don’t look at me. If anything, I’m trying to _help_ you reach your goal. Elfo’s the one trying to cockblock you guys. You should be thanking me—now you get to get laid, without your dad killing anyone. Win win for everyone but Elfo, even if you do have to get married.”   
“She’s already married!” Derek insisted.

“What? When?” Luci asked, caught off guard. He slithered over to Derek, still holding Merkimer.   
“Last night.” Derek replied.   
“That’s a commoner’s marriage, it doesn’t count.” Zog said.

Luci ignored him. “Bean, you never said Zog made you guys get married last night!”   
“I’m not married, Luci.” Bean had retreated back behind her hands. “Derek just found an obscure law in the holy book…”   
Derek put Merkimer down and retrieved the book. “Can you read, kitty cat?”   
“Not that.” Luci spat. “Can you read as little of it as possible to me?”

“Blah blah blah, like it says, he took her virginity, ‘and she shall be his wife’.” Derek finished.   
Luci leaned around Derek to look at Bean. “Oh.”   
“Cat, if you know something, you should probably share with the court.” Zog ordered.

“Oh, no no no, I don’t know anything.” Luci gave an obvious grin. “Nothing that Bean doesn’t know. Hey, Pendergast, out of curiosity, didn’t you used to have a knife?”   
“Used to? It’s right… alright, I’m only going to ask this once. Where’s my knife? If Turbish sees something shiny, he might try to eat it again, and I’m not losing another knife that way.”

“How many knives _has_ he eaten?” Merkimer asked.   
“Too many.” Pendergast deadpanned. “One day, he’s going to get stabbed in the ass, and when that happens, I’m officially going to request that he be someone else’s problem for once.”   
“Request already denied.” Zog replied. “As well as your request for more guards. Dreamland’s in an unprecedented era of peace. …it’s kinda disturbing, actually. Anyway, I’m not going to spend more money on more knights that die anyway. What happened to the last bunch I gave ya?”

“Killed by elves in the siege of Elfwood.”   
“Does that count? What else?”  
“Fell off a cliff looking for the eternity pendant.” Pendergast said.   
“And before that?”   
“Crushed by icicles—also looking for the eternity pendant.” Pendergast said. “Unfortunately, we didn’t use the eternity pendant to bring _those_ guys back, so I’ve still got vacancies to fill. Unless you want your life in Mertz’s hands. If that’s the case, there are easier and less painful ways to commit suicide.”

“Egh, you’re the only one of those idiots who seems to be able to survive anyhow. Why shouldn’t I get rid of the other two, save myself the money?” Zog asked.   
Luci scurried back over to him. “That is _such_ a bad idea. Do it, do it, do it.”   
Zog brushed him off. “Unless of course, there was some threat to the kingdom that I was unaware of.”   
“What about Bean’s mom?” Derek suggested.

“What about Derek’s octopus?” Bean shot back.   
Merkimer raised a trotter. “I seem to recall several land Vikings a while back.”   
“Land Vikings? We ain’t had Land Vikings in Dreamland for years.” Zog snorted. “Not since my Mom died, in fact.”

Bean laughed awkwardly, inching over to Merkimer before drop-kicking him out the door. “That’s right, I mean, when would they have been here anyway?”   
“Saaaad.” Merkimer called as he faded into the distance.   
“Yeah, it’s not like they were here that… what, that one weekend I was away, and you stuffed limbs up the chimney as a prank?” Zog chuckled. “I mean, where would they have even gone?”

Bean and Pendergast both forced smiles and made awkward eye contact.   
“I don’t know, maybe they went down the hole in the floor?” Luci said.   
“What? That’s crazy. Everyone knows Land Vikings can swim. It doesn’t work if they can swim.”   
“I thought they’d be dashed to pieces on the rocks below.” Bean said, then added quickly, “Hypothetically, I mean.”

“Yeah, surely if they were a problem, they’d come back sooner rather than later.” Pendergast said.   
“Nah, Land Vikings are sneaky. Worst is when they get their hands on a kingdom—they’ll fight for that land. That’s why they’re land Vikings now, instead of just regular Vikings.” Zog said. “They’ve been fighting to get back to those lovely, lovely trade ports ever since. Just like Dreamland, in fact.”

There was an awkward pause, then Luci said, “You know… maybe you should give Pendergast those guys. Just in case those Land Vikings come back.”   
“I already said that there were no Land Vikings.” Zog huffed.   
“Yeah, but there were.” Luci snitched. “You hit the nail on the head—it was that really weird long weekend where you got Chazz’d.”

“No, no, someone would have told me if there had been Land Vikings. Maybe not Bean, but Odval? Pendergast? Sorcerio?”   
Pendergast and Bean exchanged another look.   
Zog continued, “Either way, they still managed to get rid of the Land Vikings on their own before I got back. I don’t see why I should give Pendergast more men if he doesn’t need ‘em. Kids these days go through manpower too quickly.”

Luci hopped around. “Right, right. Pendergast and the two idiots weren’t actually instrumental in getting rid of the Vikings. _But_, Bean got rid of them partially because—” Bean lunged for him, and he jumped nimbly out of the way. “—too slow. Because the head Viking thought she was hot or something, and she ended up dropping him through a Zog hole. Yeah, I _guess_ you could try that again, but even that guy’s not going to be so dumb as to fall for it twice, right? Not to mention the Pendergast Problem.”

“Somehow, I doubt _I’m_ the problem with this situation.” Pendergast snarked.   
Derek looked at Luci and cocked his head. “Did she…?”   
“No! No no no no!” Bean said hurriedly. “Especially not after he declared himself King of Dreamland. Like, I just hate whoever that is on _principle_, y’know?”   
“Please don’t murder me.” Derek said. “When I ascend to the throne, I mean.”

“Nah, then I’d have to be Queen.” Bean said. “I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility.”   
Zog clapped his hands. “Kids! Stop talkin’, I’m talkin’ now! Jesus, thank God I only married two women who gave me one child each.”   
“What about me? I’m not a kid.”   
“Shaddup, cat. You’re on thin fucking ice.” Zog growled. “My daughter’s not a whore—she’d have been married off _long ago_ if she was. But all of ya gotta stop comin’ to me with, ‘Bean’s married’, ‘Bean is having sex’ or ‘everyone knows Bean had sex’ or I’m going to find an abbey that’ll take ya in the middle of nowhere with vows of silence.”

“That’s not going to stop people from thinking she’s getting laid.” Luci commented.   
There was a pause, then Pendergast said, “So can I have more men?”   
“Yes, let’s talk about that instead.” Derek said quickly. “I would prefer not to die by Vikings taking over the kingdom, though I suppose it would be quick death.”   
“Not if you’re well-educated. They might mistake you for a monk.” Zog said.

Derek dropped the book. “While we’re on the subject of manpower, I need a new whipping boy. The last one starved to death.”   
“No, you can’t have a new one! If you don’t take good care of your whipping boy, that’s your own fault!” Zog huffed. “How would you have an emotional bond with a stranger that would encourage you to behave?”   
Derek looked at the floor. “Well, he wasn’t being paid since he wasn’t being used, so… I’ll take better care of the next one?”

“Tell you what, I’m on a roll of good ideas today. Most of them involve entrusting my children to Pendergast to solve my problems.”   
“Uh… thanks, your majesty, but I’d prefer the one you’ve already said I could marry.” Pendergast said quickly.   
“No, you idiot! Train Derek, make him a bit less of a lump, give him something to do with himself besides _read_ and eat seagulls.”

“They’re very nice roasted.” Derek added.   
Pendergast scowled. “Sir, may I be candid?”   
“No.”

Pendergast shut his mouth with a click.   
“Dad, the Knights of the Zog table have a tendency to die. Derek’s a gentle soul.” Bean said. “He’s not you, and he’s not Pendergast.”   
Pendergast jerked back, clearly insulted. Bean pushed on. “Besides, he hasn’t had combat training in years.”

“Thanks, Bean.” Derek said, unsure if it was all a compliment or an insult.   
She patted his head. “I mean, I have a higher kill count, technically. If anyone should be training with Pendergast and the guards, it should be me.”   
“Oh, it was all for your own benefit.” Derek muttered.

“Nah, it was for both of us.” Bean said.   
“Absolutely not!” Pendergast began.   
“I bet I could beat you.” Bean shot back. “I’ve done it enough by now—and you’re the best one of all of the knights.”   
“Those were never formal sparring opportunities.” Pendergast hissed. “Besides—you’re a woman! I can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not asking you to _hit_ me! I’m saying I could take you in a fight!” Bean said exasperatedly.   
Derek and Zog looked at each other.   
“This is getting out of hand—” Zog tried. For once, Pendergast didn’t listen to him.

“You don’t have _any_ formal training!”   
“What, does that hurt your ego? I’ve watched you train the two idiots long enough to pick up the basics.”   
Luci scurried over to a nearby door and opened it. Derek grabbed Bean’s hand and gently steered her into it as Zog did the same with Pendergast. Luci shut the door behind them, then locked the door.

“We are so good at marriage counseling, guys.” Luci commented.   
“Dad? I don’t actually want to be in the military.” Derek said.   
Zog sighed. “It’s… what if the guards aren’t around to help ya? What if you need to lead Dreamland into war, or have a King Fight when your daughter gets rid of _both_ heirs to Bentwood?”   
“Oh, that’s simple.” Derek said.

His jaw unhinged, his eyes sunk, his teeth grew incredibly sharp and long, and his bones snapped as they reformed his body into something monstrous. Black ichor dripped from his teeth, his muscle and fat now stretched thin over his hulking frame.   
“Did you know he could do that?” Luci asked.   
Zog slowly shook his head.

Derek then slowly returned to normal. “Mom said it was my secret weapon.”   
“…Oona can’t do that too, can she?”   
Derek shook his head. “No, she looked a lot like you do now when I showed her.”

Zog breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t want that comin’ after me in the night, with all the fury of an ex-wife.”   
“_Why_ can you do that?” Luci asked, climbing onto Derek’s shoulder.   
“I don’t know. …can I search the library, Father?” Derek asked.   
“Eh, why not. It’s not like I can get Pendergast to take you on right now.” Zog said, before returning to his throne. “I’ve spent too much time on my kids today anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Derek's quotes are straight up lifted from the Bible. Disenchantment is fascinating because it attempts to create a view of Medieval Europe-- without Christianity, even though cultural Christianity aspects (i.e. the depiction of God, the depictions of Heaven and Hell, etc.) are still woven throughout. I'm going to ignore what they were trying to do with the new religion, given that we never see it. 
> 
> It is originally fifty silver shekels in the Bible, but I wanted to expand a bit more on the currency of Dreamland at the same time. 
> 
> Derek IS right about marriage, considering that sometimes you didn't need a priest, all you needed was two consenting adults who went off together, agreeing that yes, they were married. Sex did cement it-- the problem arises from less than scrupulous young men claiming that they were never married, and therefore tarnishing the young lady's honor. That's... not what's happening here.


	4. Locked in a closet in an M rated fic oh no

“I could take you right now.” Bean poked Pendergast in the chest to prove her point.   
He laughed. “We’re in a closet, I’m in armor, there are no weapons! You’re lithe, but I have more upper body strength!”   
She raised her eyebrows. “_Lithe_, huh?”

Pendergast suddenly came to a very sudden realization regarding how small the room was. Thankfully, it was also fairly dark, so she wouldn’t see him flush. “You said you were watching me in the training yard.” Good—his voice sounded firm.   
“Yeah, the stuff you were doing was interesting.” She said dismissively.

Oh. The training.  
“But… it’s more fun watching you than the others.” She was looking away now. “Um… hey, I bet I could give you a run for your money.”   
Yes, _yes_! Back to the familiarity. “We’ll have to see about that, but don’t be a sore loser.”   
He could tell how her face lit up in the dark—wait, could she see his face? “Really? Armor and everything?”

He gave an exasperated sigh. One more thing on his checklist. “Fine. Mertz’s mother can do it, I don’t see why you can’t. Just for _one_ bout, and then when I inevitably win, you won’t push it any more.”   
She snorted in derision. “Why does it bother you so much? You were willing to train Derek.”   
“I was _not_ willing to train Derek!” Pendergast shot back. “If anything happens to the king’s _only heir_, it’ll be my head! But I wasn’t going to disagree with the king to his face!”

“What’ll he do if you do?” Bean replied.   
“You are so…!” Pendergast threw his hands into the air. “Do you even know how lucky I am to be alive right now?! It’s downright _miraculous_ that I still have my job!”   
“Please, my dad likes you.” Bean brushed him off.   
“We are not all born princesses, Tiabeanie. Most of the time, there are consequences for disobeying orders.” Pendergast hissed.

Bean scowled. “Hey, Derek heard Dad say he thinks of you like a son. You were never in any danger.”   
Pendergast wanted to bang his head on the wall. “That… Derek wasn’t supposed to hear that. _Anyway_, your father isn’t the only person with authority over me, and even then, I had to work to get this position!”

He was going to leave out the part where he had supposedly gotten the position because of her in the first place.   
“…see, that’s actually a good reason for being mad at me. Stuff like me wanting training—because I might need it even more than Derek!—that’s a bad reason!”   
“Why,” he bit out, “would you need to defend yourself so vigorously, exactly?”

She looked at him like he was Turbish—kind of pitying, mostly exasperated. “What do you think would happen to me if Dreamland fell to… I don’t know, the Land Vikings… and I didn’t know how to defend myself?”   
Oh. So it wasn’t about her needing to defend herself from _him_… “Tiabeanie, if that happened, suiting up in armor wouldn’t help you.”

“Hey!”   
“Listen, for once!” He gripped her shoulders gently. “Getting a sword will take too long, and you don’t have the upper body strength. What you want is a knife you can hide in one of your boots.”   
“…that’s surprisingly good advice.”   
“I _have_ been known to have some.” He commented dryly, before remembering propriety and releasing her.

“So, you’ll train me.” She said.   
“I said I’d fight you. I didn’t say… something tells me you know your way around a knife.” Pendergast said. “Speaking of which, where’s my knife, Tiabeanie?”   
She looked away. “I mean, it’s standard issue, you can get another one, right?”   
“I’d feel a bit safer if I knew you weren’t going to stab me on our wedding night. Humor me.” Pendergast deadpanned.

“It’s safe.” She shuffled her feet.   
“Why won’t you give it back?” He huffed. “Why do you need _that_ knife?”   
“Why do you?” She shot back. “Checkmate!”   
It was his lucky knife. It had saved his life more than once. Cleaning it was better than fidgeting with gauntlets, and knowing exactly where it was put him at peace. He’d been sleeping with a knife since before he met her, and knowing it was the castle knife helped jerk him out of the mindset of… well, he wasn’t going to go into that. He also wasn’t going to go into the fact that if he heard breathing while he was sleeping—say, a wife sleeping next to him—he’d panic unless he knew he had a way to defend himself.

“It’s _my_ knife.” He settled on. “You can have other things—I’d love for Turbish and Mertz to be your problems instead of mine—but the things I need for my job stay mine.”   
She sighed. “Fine… you should probably know, Elfo stumbled onto it yesterday.”   
He crossed his arms. “The same Elfo who already damn well knows I was in your room?”   
“No, he pricked his finger on it. That’s where the blood on the sheet came from.” She said.

“We have to tell your father.” He said immediately.   
Bean scowled. “No, we don’t. Why would you want to tell him anything?”   
“Because this way you don’t… I don’t… I care what he thinks!” Pendergast huffed.   
Bean snorted. “I don’t.”

“Really, you don’t care that the whole kingdom is calling you a whore right now?” Pendergast deadpanned.   
Bean crossed her arms defensively. “No. I care that you’re being a jerkface who’s making my life harder by not training me.”   
Oh, they were back to that?

“Fine, I’ll just say what you want me to say is that it? Women shouldn’t fight, it messes with their humors and ruins their ability to have children, making it needlessly complicated when they _do_ manage to have children. Same reason women shouldn’t ride, actually, because it jostles the womb. Women shouldn’t _need_ to fight, especially when they’re married to a man who can, because then what does it say about their husband?”

Bean scoffed. “Okay, a couple of things—since when are you trained in medicine?”   
“It’s stuff _everyone_ knows!” Pendergast shot back, ready for that one.   
“Second, what I do doesn’t have anything to do with you!”

“It _reflects_ on me, or at least it will, the way it currently reflects on your father.”   
“Zog has his own problems.” Bean said dismissively. “People would think the same way about him regardless of whether I was a good daughter or not. People wouldn’t _care_ if I can actually fight or not. Third, what exactly makes you think I’ll have children with you?”

Pendergast opened his mouth to bite back, then closed it again. There wasn’t really anything good to say to that. “If you don’t want children, and I didn’t… _defile_ you, and there’s nothing you want from me besides a chance to lose a sword fight, why not tell your father about the knife?” He finally said.   
Bean frowned. “I didn’t say there’s nothing I want from you. I want you to see me as an equal. As one of the guys.”

“You’re not one of the guys.” Pendergast deadpanned. “And you never will be, and you never would have been, even if you were born a man. Yes, you’re a woman, but you’re a _royal_ woman. Tell your father about the knife, or I will.”   
“I thought you liked me. Y’know, with the whole ‘lithe’ thing?” Bean pointed out.   
“I’m not the _elf_, Tiabeanie. The two are not mutually exclusive.” Pendergast said.

“You’re trying to get out of marrying me!” Bean said.   
“Because you hate me!” Pendergast shot back. “Excuse me for wanting some happiness for once!”   
There was a pause, then Bean sat on the floor. “I don’t hate you.”   
Pendergast did his best to join her, but his armor kind of got in the way.

“Here, stretch out your legs…” Bean said, standing up. Once he had, she sat down on top of him. “Anyway, I don’t hate you. You can be kind of a dick sometimes, but you’re better than most people.”   
“Gee thanks.” Pendergast said, though he was purposefully looking away from her.   
Bean shifted a bit to get more comfortable, and he made a sound like he was being strangled.

“If we’re being honest, you’re the best I’m going to get. Bunty said there are lots of reasons people get married, and that’s one of them, but… I don’t know. I mean, I like you enough to touch you and want to have sex with you. That puts you leagues ahead of Merkimer.”   
Pendergast finally shot her a Look. “You also tried to have sex with the Land Viking who tried to take over Dreamland.”   
“Hey! That was _before_ he tried to take it over.” Bean said.

Pendergast began to do something unexpected. His shoulders began to shake.   
“Hey, are you okay?” Bean asked, before she realized he was chuckling.   
“Pardon me for not recognizing the distinction.” He snorted.

“…you should laugh more.” Bean finally said.   
“It’s not like I’ve ever had much reason to.” Pendergast replied, though he smiled at her.   
Bean’s stomach did a weird fluttery thing like she’d drunk too much. Which was weird, because she hadn’t had anything besides her hip flask today.   
“I don’t hate you.” Bean repeated.

“I know, you said that.”   
“No, I mean… I hid the knife because I want to… it’s my choice, if I hid the knife. And I choose you.”   
“Why?” Pendergast asked. “When I asked if we were courting—”   
“Agh, no one’s courting.” Bean said. “That doesn’t mean ­I don’t… look, if I had to forcibly marry anyone, it’d be you. Not because things get to stay the same, but… you’re a good person. And I like your hands.”

That was as honest as she was going to get.   
“Oh.” Pendergast said in a small voice, before he cleared his throat. “Um… I like your hands too. …only hands, though?”   
“Well, I also like your tongue.” Bean said.

Pendergast was definitely blushing right now, even if they were in dim light. “I meant… would I ever be able to… since you don’t want children…?”   
“Oh. You mean actual sex?” Bean asked. “Of course. Um… how does it work without having…?”   
Pendergast laughed again, and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to be laughing to alleviate tension. “Would you believe that I’ve never gotten even that far until last night?”

“What? No way. You were way too professional.”   
Pendergast shook his head. “Looking after Turbish and Mertz is a full time job. Free time is devoted to making sure that you, your father, or your brother aren’t assassinated. Mostly your father, but you have a huge file dedicated to you because your list of enemies is getting longer than his.”   
“What enemies?”   
“Land Vikings, for one.”

They both laughed, then Pendergast cleared his throat. “I… you know I’d die for you, right? Partially because it’s my job, but if it could give you an extra few minutes to get away—”   
Bean cut him off with a kiss. “Don’t ruin the closet time.”   
Pendergast kind of stared at her, then smiled goofily. “Don’t… okay.”

Bean leaned up against the nearest wall, still on his lap.”So, what would you have done if we hadn’t been interrupted last night?”   
“I was making it up as I went along.” Pendergast admitted.   
Bean punched his shoulder gently. “Why are you acting like I’m some pure, virginal maiden? You were so relaxed last night.”

“I was _drunk_ last night. I sobered up very quickly once I had the distinct possibility of losing my head.”   
She leaned forward, then gently headbutted him.   
“Ow.”   
“Ha, no armor there, huh? Anyway, I was having fun last night, and I thought you were too.”   
“_Way_ too much fun.” Pendergast agreed.

“Aw, c’mon, nothing bad happened.”   
“You are very…” Pendergast licked his suddenly dry lips. Of course Bean saw. “You’re very _tempting_, Tiabeanie.”   
She gave a snort of laughter. “I think you’re the only one who thinks that _I_’m tempting, not… being married to the princess of Dreamland.”

“I wouldn’t be in here if you were a different kind of princess.” Pendergast snarked.   
“Aw, thanks.”   
“It wasn’t necessarily a compliment.” He said as she shifted so that she could lean up against him, in his lap, instead of against the wall.

“I know.” She replied. “…do you have any idea how to get out of here?”   
“My hopes currently rest on Derek remembering us.” Pendergast deadpanned.   
The door swung open.

“Oh, there you are, Bean! Why are you in Pendergast’s lap? It can’t be comfortable with all that armor.” Elfo commented.   
Pendergast stood—which necessitated picking up Bean so that he didn’t have to wait for her to move.   
She made a noise of protest, and he put her down outside the closet. “Sorry, but I have to go make sure Turbish and Mertz didn’t get into rat poison while I was gone.”

Bean awkwardly waved goodbye as he turned on his heel and left.   
“Why does your face look like that?” Elfo asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Bean said. “I-I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t touched me before.”   
“Right.” Elfo agreed. “Maybe he gave you a disesase.”   
“I just didn’t realize he was that strong.” Bean muttered, fidgeting with a stray lock of hair.

“Strong?” Elfo scoffed. “I could—I could lift you that easily. Like it was nothing. I bet he doesn’t even work out. Here, let’s do a trust fall, I’ll catch you.”   
“I’m not doing that.” Bean said. “You can watch me get drunk though.”   
“Yay!” Elfo said, following her into the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pendergast does not know all the details of the Hansel/Gretel thing, which is why he says Bean doesn't have that much upper body strength. 
> 
> Since I need a historical note for this chapter, let's talk about Pendergast's armor. Most of it, I'd say is late 1200s, on track for the early 1200s they're in (if sped up a bit). Even then it's obviously top of the line, it's not experimental. So that actually puts Dreamland closer to the 1400s-1500s in terms of armor and arms development.   
Especially because Pendergast wears pauldrons instead of spaulders. 
> 
> To clarify, spaulders are early 1400s coverings for the upper arms and shoulders. Pauldrons are larger versions that also cover the armpit. Pauldrons were also invented in the 15th century, but considerably later than the spaulders they evolved from. 
> 
> "How do you know they're pauldrons?"   
Because look at Pendergast's shoulders when he's in and out of armor. Look at what happens when he raises his arms. The knowledge that he is wearing pauldrons 200-300 years ahead of schedule plagues me. He's not in full plate mail like the 1400s, he has a mix of plate and chain mail. Dreamland's advances in arms and armor haunt and fascinate me.


	5. I kind of feel bad for Turbish and Mertz

“…so I heard you and the princess are getting married?” Mertz tried.   
Pendergast fixed him with one of his best glares. “Where did you hear that?”   
“Zog.” Mertz replied. This was a lie, but it was a safe lie.

Pendergast relaxed slightly. “If the king said so, then yes.”   
“Because you had sex.” Turbish added.   
“We did not have sex.” Pendergast growled.

“Where were you yesterday anyway?” Turbish asked, not sensing the danger of asking Pendergast embarrassing questions.   
Mertz was meant to be the smarter one. Mertz had gleaned enough about his boss over the years to know which topics to avoid, and to infer things like Pendergast’s relationship with his family.   
“Will your family come to the wedding?” Mertz asked, like an idiot.

It must be mentioned that all three were working on training dummies. More accurately, Mertz and Turbish were working with training dummies, and Pendergast had a training sword that he would correct them with, whack them into place with, or very, very occasionally, demonstrate on a training dummy with. The training sword was dulled to the point that Turbish could not poke his eye out on it, which actually took Pendergast hours. They come pre-dulled, but not Turbish proof.

All of this is important to know, because in a single fluid motion, seemingly as a reaction, the training sword went through the target painted on the training dummy, up to the hilt. All three stared at it for a minute, then Turbish and Mertz slowly looked at Pendergast.   
“I think,” Pendergast slowly said, “we should move into one on one sparring for the day.”   
Both Turbish and Mertz wished fervently that Stryker and Bolt would reappear in that moment. One on one meant that Pendergast would have them put their helmets on, take a tourney sword, and walk into a dirt ring. First knocked out of the ring lost.

Turbish and Mertz were great against each other. Both had an absolutely amazing losing streak when it came to Pendergast. The worst time Mertz had ever gotten hurt was when he had tried to circle around to Pendergast’s right. A little known fact is that Pendergast was well-aware that he was dead in the water if anyone ever attacked him from the right. Because of this, he had a tendency to over-compensate should anyone try to circle around him to end up on that side.

That was the day that Mertz realized that Pendergast wasn’t actually trying to hurt them in a one-on-one spar, and that he was holding back. Mertz was _terrified_ of Pendergast doing that again, and this situation today was… unhelpful. Especially since he’d actually been doing better than Turbish on the dummies today, which meant…   
“Mertz, you’re up first.” Pendergast said.

Mertz promptly got his ass handed to him, then Turbish did.   
It was about that time that Bean walked up. She was about as sober as she really could be.   
“Hey, can I try?” She asked.   
Mertz and Turbish, having no idea what she was talking about, nodded fervently. Pendergast could focus on her.

Pendergast shot them both a look, then nodded. “_Fine_. You’ve taken in about as much training as these two have. Let’s make this as fair as possible—training swords, no armor to weigh either of us down because you’re not used to moving with it on. You’re in charge of Turbish and Mertz while I go change out of my armor.”

He clanked towards the barracks.   
“So… any advice for beating him?” Bean asked.   
“Don’t get on his bad side.” Turbish said immediately.   
Mertz nodded.

Bean nodded. “…so don’t piss him off?”   
“Yes.” Mertz said. Pendergast did not like it when he was approached from the right. Pendergast might also still be in a bad mood—would that mean he’d strike harder? Mertz didn’t want Zog to kill Pendergast—he definitely didn’t want to be in charge of the Knights of the Zog Table, just as much as he didn’t want to follow Turbish into battle. If only Stryker and Bolt were back…

He was broken out of his fantasy by Pendergast returning and throwing a training sword at the princess. She wasn’t ready, and initially fumbled it.   
Pendergast watched her. “Are you drunk?”   
“What? No. I was going to _go_ drinking.” Bean gestured. “Elfo and Luci are probably looking for me right now.”

Pendergast nodded once. “Into the ring. You can start first.”   
This was a trick that neither Turbish or Mertz had picked up on yet—Pendergast preferred seeing what his opponent would do, and he preferred moving from the defensive into the offensive. Bean could therefore be excused. She ran toward him, and he raised his sword up, ready to parry her. She slammed into him, and he held firm. He smirked. “Not this time, Tiabeanie.”

He pushed back, and she moved back a few paces. She stepped to the side, and he matched her. He wasn’t an idiot, he saw her eyes go to his eyepatch. “Don’t.” He growled.   
“What, worried I’m going to beat you?” She asked.

She lunged forward. Instinct kicked in—_where was she? Don’tdont’dontDON’Tgettooclose_.

Before either of them realized what was happening, her sword was wrenched out of her hand, and was thrown out of the ring. Pendergast caught himself before the same could be done to her, and pulled back as though he had been yanked by a rope.

“Hey, we’re not done.” Bean said.   
“Yes we are.” Pendergast said. “I didn’t agree to this to beat you.”   
“What, you mean you wanted to lose?” Bean asked, as Turbish handed her a new sword.   
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Pendergast said. “We’re done.”

“If we’re done, I won.” Bean said smugly.   
Pendergast took a deep breath. “You didn’t win. You lost your sword. If this was a real battle, you would be dead now.”   
Bean looked at Turbish and Mertz. “Has that ever happened to you guys?”   
They shook their heads. Pendergast did not stop with their swords.

Bean glared at Pendergast. “This is more, ‘oh, Bean’s a woman, she can’t take it’ isn’t it? You said you’d fight me for real—don’t hold back!”   
“Fine.” Pendergast finally said. “And if I win, then you’ll finally have to drop it, because Zog’ll kill me. Mertz, when I die, your mother’s in charge.”   
“Okay.” Mertz hoped that this would never, ever happen.

“Wh—_she_ can be Head of the Guards?” Bean demanded.   
“She legitimately scares me.” Pendergast admitted.   
“What, and I don’t scare you?”   
“Not the same way. Begin.”

Bean didn’t attack straight away, nor did she go for his right side. Everyone probably went for his right side, he was always expecting it. He was right handed as well, and even if he wasn’t going to snap his arm up and disarm her, he’d be able to push back easily.   
“What are you waiting for, attack!” Pendergast hissed.

Bean feinted towards his right—there went his arm snapping up again, and the flash of anger in his eye—but ultimately moved towards his left. He managed to parry in time, but he was still somewhat caught off-guard. She smiled, and… wait, why was he smiling?

It wasn’t a nasty smile, it was like he was having fun. “I didn’t know you were interesting.” He said, like she’d said to him at that party. Then his sword slammed up, tipping her off balance a bit. Just enough for him to start pushing her back.

Bean moved to the side. She’d never be able to beat him on pure strength, but he said she was _lithe_. She could probably out-step him.   
Pendergast was actually pretty good at footwork, she had to hand it to him. They’d probably be pretty good at dancing together.

He wasn’t used to having to cover his left side with his right—she managed to get in a lucky hit on his right elbow. His arm jerked down to cover his side, but not the same way it had before. She went in for another attack, but he was ready this time and parried it easily, twisting to make himself less of a target. She mimicked the motion, and he gave another big smile. “Well, at least _someone_ can learn.”

“I can’t believe you doubted me.”   
He was moving closer now, trying to pare down her space so that she had less room to attack him. She backed up, feeling her heel hit the line Pendergast had drawn in the sand.   
Pendergast knew it too, she could see it in that shit-eating grin of his. She grinned back. Well, if she was going down, he was coming with her.

He was back to standing the way he had before, though his left foot was slightly closer to her. Perfect.   
She took her right foot—which was the one that had gone over the line—and jerked. Both of them tumbled to the ground.   
“Ha! I won!”   
“We both went down.” Pendergast groaned, though he still had that ear-to-ear grin.   
“So it’s a draw.”

“It wouldn’t have happened under normal circumstances.” Pendergast said, mostly to Turbish and Mertz, as he stood up.   
He held out a hand to held her up. Some small part of her was kind of disappointed that he hadn’t picked her up again, but whatever. She just kicked his ass. “Sore loser.”

“You did a good job adapting and learning.” Pendergast said. “I… good job actually getting me to go down.”   
Bean puffed up. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re better at your job than I thought.”   
“Yeah, I’m not going to go easy on you next time.” He replied, still smiling. It was beginning to scare Turbish and Mertz. Pendergast didn’t smile. Pendergast didn’t _lose_, or whatever that was.

“Pfft, you didn’t go easy on me.” She said.   
He raised an eyebrow at her, and turned on his heel. “You two go next.”   
She moved to the side with him as Turbish and Mertz took the ring.   
He kept his face turned towards to the ring, but even Turbish and Mertz could tell his attention was on Bean.

“Do you want to have a rematch sometime?” She asked.   
“You sound like you’re in a hurry to get your ass kicked.” He was actively trying to fight the smile now. It wasn’t fooling anyone.   
“In a hurry for _some_ ass-kicking.” Bean said, trying to be cool about it. “You keep forgetting that I brought you down.”   
“Fair point. It’s a lot more fun fighting you than Turbish and Mertz, anyway.”

He finally stopped pretending he was watching Turbish and Mertz, and turned to her with that same smirk. “So, exactly how long have you been watching us train?”   
“Don’t be a dick, man.”   
“Understood.” He immediately turned his attention to Turbish and Mertz.

She fidgeted in place for a bit, then said, “I watched sometimes since you came back from the Crusades. You seemed to know what you were doing.”   
“And you practice what you see?” He asked, still looking at Turbish and Mertz.   
“Not often. …I used to more, before I met Elfo and Luci.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this—especially to a woman—”   
“Come on, Pen.”   
“—but if you want one on one training after dark on days that I’m not busy—Pen?”   
“Yeah? It’s a nickname. You know what a nickname is, right?” She leaned up against the wall.   
“No, I’m afraid I’ve never heard of the concept, Tiabeanie.” He replied.

She giggle-snorted. “Jerkface.”   
He glanced at her, before very quickly turning back to the ring. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before. A real laugh.”   
“What, I’ve…” Bean thought for a minute. “Fair enough. …listen, I’m going to go catch up with Elfo and Luci, and let you get back to actually watching them fight instead of letting them pretend to hit each other while you’re not looking.”

“That’s how they fight.” Pendergast said.   
Bean smiled. “So when can we do this ‘one-on-one’ training?”   
“Tonight.” Pendergast said quickly. “I mean… tonight should work. Meet me back here at 8pm.”   
Bean leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Pen.”

He slowly raised his hand to his cheek as she left.   
Turbish and Mertz slowed to a standstill, which unfortunately jerked Pendergast’s attention to them. “Neither of you look even remotely like you’ve been doing anything but sitting around! Get your gear packs and run laps around the courtyard!”

They ran to get their packs—at least Pendergast was back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhh this one isn't too historical either. Sorry. 
> 
> I love Bean, but it's a draw because Pendergast has a LOT more experience. This is his job. Admittedly, part of the reason she managed to get him into a draw anyway was because he's used to Turbish and Mertz-- who never learn anything except 'don't attack Pendergast from the right too hard or he'll kill you'. 
> 
> Pendergast doesn't get a lot of positive touching in his line of work with his social circle. He genuinely likes her too. I say this because I just realized that this kind of goes 0-100 from his point of view in the next few chapters. He's actually a lot more willing to follow her lead than he'd say. Pendergast is a good knight, very obedient 10/10.


	6. Odval's not such a bad guy he's just got his own problems

Zog often had trouble sleeping—also it was only about 8:30. He knew he should probably be working, but also eh. Odval would come by soon enough with reports and things like that.   
Zog wandered out onto his balcony to look at the stars. He saw a flash of white in the dark, and startled—_Dagmar_?

But no, it was just his beloved daughter and Pendergast. Zog squinted down at them. What were they doing? Bean had a… what was that? A seax? It looked a bit smaller and lighter than Pendergast’s arming sword, and it had a weird notch in it. Where did Pendergast even find that?

Pendergast seemed to be genuinely critiquing her—oh there it was, Pendergast put his hands on Bean’s waist.   
Bean looked back at him, and he pulled away after he explained what to do—did she even listen? That girl was getting too spoiled. To be fair, that was kind of his fault, but still.

She moved to attack the dummy again. Pendergast did not seem impressed, and Bean said something. Pendergast frowned, then took the seax back, gesturing to her to… do something with the dummy?

She moved it back several paces while Pendergast disappeared, then came back with a shortbow and arrows. Zog could feel a headache coming on. Bean managed to hit the dummy’s side, which was better than Zog thought possible. Evidently Pendergast thought so as well—Zog could see surprise flit across the other man’s face, before Pendergast moved back to touching Bean.

He held her shoulders, then moved his hands down to her hips, turning them gently so that her left leg was forced out in front of the right. Zog was wondering if he should be watching this, when Pendergast tapped Bean’s right leg. Evidently, she hadn’t been expecting that either, since she jumped.

Pendergast looked exasperated, and took the bow. He squared his shoulders, and shot the dummy, then handed the bow back to Bean.   
She squared her shoulders the same way, and shot. It was worse than her first shot. Pendergast moved her hips again, and this one hit a little better. He gently kicked her shoe with his, then stepped back, nodding. Apparently, her stance was firmer now, if Zog was watching this right. That’s good, a good stance was the difference between life and death.

This one still didn’t hit quite as well as Pendergast’s had.   
Pendergast said something that Zog couldn’t hear, though he made the smile that said, ‘Wasn’t my sarcasm funny just now? I meant it as a joke instead of a criticism, but there’s still kind of a criticism here’. Bean looked startled, as though she hadn’t expected him to say that, then they both laughed.

God, Zog was so good at making decisions regarding his children. Not all the time, but now? This decision he made years ago—which was _finally_ paying off—outweighed the other ones.

A knock came at the door. “Come in.” Zog said.   
Odval glided in. “Your Majesty… what are you looking at?”   
“Bean ‘nd Gast.” Zog said noncommittally, moving in to sit at the couch.   
Odval stayed standing. “Yes… well, I think Princess Tiabeanie actually has a good chance of being married this time.”

“I know, right?” Zog chuckled. “Sometimes I’m glad that I have the divine right to rule.”   
“Yes… unless, of course, she self-sabotages soon. Again.” Odval said, looking out the window.   
Zog nodded. “I think we should have ‘em get married tomorrow. As little notice as possible.”   
“Your Majesty, I haven’t even notified Pendergast’s family yet.” Odval said, clearly taken aback.

“Good. I’m his father in law now, I’m his family. Don’t need ‘em there.” Zog didn’t expect Odval to get it.   
But then Odval nodded. “I remember when he first came here. He’s improved a lot. I see why you’d want to… not associate with those people.”   
Zog’s heart was vaguely warmed. “You noticed that, huh? Yeah. He’s got us now.”

Odval cleared his throat. “What will we do about Tiabeanie’s dowry?”   
“We’re still doing that?” Zog asked.   
“…Sire, you wouldn’t shame your daughter like that.”   
Zog shrugged. “I’ll give ‘em bed and board, and nothin’ has to change. Bean still has full run of the castle and the stuff in the basement.”

“…an inspired decision, my liege. What about the land we set aside when she was betrothed to the Prince of Bentwood?”   
Zog turned to look at him. “Wasn’t that part of the Enchanted Forest?”   
“Yes, we were attempting to iron out our borders.” Odval admitted.

“Eh, keep it. Tell Derek if I die and she wants a castle or somethin’, give ‘em a castle.”   
This was something Odval understood. “Fair enough. Should they be informed that the wedding is looming?”   
“What? Nah. Bean’ll just panic and do somethin’ stupid, and Pendergast’ll tell her. Just drag ‘em to the church when we’re ready, and then tell the public.”

“It will be done.” Odval said, bowing low, and backing out of Zog’s room. Zog then went to lie down in bed and stare at the ceiling for a few hours, before he fell asleep. He was in a good mood—maybe it would only be two hours of lying awake that night.

Odval, meanwhile, went to the basement of the castle. He knew the way, yet he still brought a torch. It was a weakness, and she’d see it as such, but that didn’t make it any less comforting.   
“Your Majesty?” He called into the darkness. He did not step past the threshold, because he could pretend that if he didn’t, he was still safely under Zog’s purview. She knew that as weakness too.

He saw her minions first, with their empty black eyes, and large teeth. He had long since steeled himself to not be scared of them. He was, however, curious. Surely someone would have noticed if they’d been brought in (someone like him). Had they been here since the construction of the castle? Why follow Dagmar?

“White Hair.” One called, before the rest picked up the chant.   
“White Hair, White Hair, White Hair.” They cried. Odval considered that perhaps they weren’t following _Dagmar_, they were following a symbol. Given everything that Tiabeanie appeared to be, another symbol as a log on the bonfire of her destiny seemed likely—and inconsequential.  
Dagmar appeared out of the inky blackness. “Hello, Odval.”

He bowed low. “Hello, my liege.”   
She smiled that great, terrible smile, that suggested she was going to eat him. Odval did not fear the minions any more, since they were just creatures, trying to live their lives. Manipulated by Dagmar. He could not fear them when he _was_ them. He was deeply, deathly afraid of Dagmar, though.

“What news can you tell me?” Dagmar asked.   
“The King is moving up Tiabeanie’s wedding.” Odval said.   
Dagmar scowled. “Who will she be marrying? A Prince of Bentwood? I heard they had at least one before I was turned to stone.”   
Odval ground his teeth. “No, she inadvertently caused the death of the first one, and got the second one turned into a pig. We don’t really _say_ the word ‘Bentwood’ around here anymore.”

Dagmar laughed. “Of course not. So who is she marrying?”   
“Pendergast.” Odval said. “The leader of the Knights of the Zog table.” And somehow, Odval was able to find it in himself to root for Bean and Pendergast; perhaps because it would anger Dagmar, perhaps because both or either or neither deserved happiness, and he might be responsible, perhaps because neither was really that bad, perhaps because the world wouldn’t end if Pendergast—sensible, rule-following Pendergast—tethered Bean to this mortal coil.

“Does this Pendergast have a surname?” Dagmar asked.   
“Not one that he uses most of the time.” Odval admitted. He chose his next words carefully—Dagmar wasn’t interested in Pendergast’s quality as a man, or Bean’s happiness. Odval was nowhere near blind, he’d seen the same thing that Zog had. Against all odds, Bean was happy, which was mostly evidenced by the fact that she and her cronies hadn’t found some way to render the engagement null yet. Dagmar would be angry if Odval said that Zog liked Pendergast, and she would kill the younger man if Odval pointed out his service record; a man of integrity and rationality who would not bend to her wills. Dagmar would kill _him_ if he dared to lie to her. She would know if he tried.

Dagmar looked at her nails. “Well, that won’t do at all. I’ll just have to give her a wedding present—”   
“No.” Odval said.   
“No?” Dagmar repeated, saying it like she was feeling out the word in her mouth. “Why not?”   
“He is devoted to Tiabeanie. Upstairs, right now, he is giving her weapons training, simply because she asked.”

Dagmar smirked. “Oh, so it’s like that, then. Well, I remember my marriage to Zog, if she wants to wrap a knight around her fingers, who am I to stop her? …but then again, there’s no reason why she should have to suffer as I did.”   
Odval folded his hands behind his back. “My queen, this may be Tiabeanie’s only chance to… continue the family line, shall we say. Say that she was not the promised one, that you were impatient. What then?”

He stilled himself so as not to react to the fury on her face.   
“I am not wrong.” Dagmar hissed. “Tiabeanie recognized it herself.”   
Odval nodded. “And… what if anything should happen to you, leaving Tiabeanie the queen of Maru? What if she chooses not to live as an immortal queen once she comes into her godlike power?” Odval prayed this would never happen.

Dagmar took a stride forward, and Odval flinched, ready for her hand to fall upon his skin. Zog’s punches hurt, but they were small slights. Dagmar burned with black magic and her slaps pinched at his skin.   
“She could always have someone else. Who would turn away a god?” Dagmar said, smirking at his reaction.   
“Pendergast wants her as Bean.”

“This _Pendergast_ wants a princess and a promotion.” Dagmar spat. “I’m doing her a favor by getting rid of him. She’s no great beauty, she’s no skilled charmer. What could he want with my poor, ugly, awkward baby?”   
“Please.” Odval said. “Not for me, not even for Pendergast. Please, for Bean. Pendergast doesn’t think of her as a means to power—he won’t _get_ power with her. Let Bean be with someone who loves her as Bean. Not as a God-Queen, not as a princess, not as the daughter of Dagmar _or_ Zog. Not as the only woman he’s ever seen, and has therefore latched onto her as the pinnacle of beauty and goodness, and not as a bit of nostalgia for a faraway home. Not even as Tiabeanie. Just as _Bean_.”

There was a pause. It occurred to Odval that this was quite honestly the nicest thing he’d ever said about Tiabeanie. It should be said that it wasn’t that he _disliked_ her—okay, he did, she was a brat and a nuisance, but she meant well, and even he could see that she just craved love—it was that she was too much like Zog. Too much like Dagmar. He’d never trusted her because of that, and it had affected their relationship going forward. Ah well, Odval didn’t necessarily _care_ about the nuisance. She was to bring about the end of days, and Odval would really rather that she… didn’t. Making her happy in this one small (huge) way solved everything neatly. Odval had been considering trying to get Zog out of the way so that he could kill her or drive her away from Dreamland, but this? This was easier. Safer.

“What was that about the first woman he’d ever seen? Who were you referring to, with that?”   
“Her elf friend who died, your majesty. You made a scene at his funeral.” Odval said stiffly.   
“Oh. Really?” Dagmar grimaced. “Obsessed with Bean?”   
“In a deeply unhealthy way.” Odval agreed. “It gives me the shivers a bit, but she insists on keeping his company—he’s back to life, by the way, it’s long and complicated and I decided not to ask—and he seems harmless enough.”

“Hmm… any other developments I should be aware of?” Dagmar asked.   
“Not really.” Odval said.   
“You’re dismissed.” Dagmar said.   
Odval bowed to the shadows and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zog was right, a seax was smaller and lighter than other swords-- a lot smaller and lighter, actually (to the point that it's almost a really big knife). In heraldry, they look a lot like scimitars (curved, weird notch that Zog also noticed), but Pendergast found it because he thought it would be a good starting sword for Bean, since it was carried by both women and men. It's an Anglo-Saxon sword though, so it's probably an antique Pendergast stumbled across in the armory. 
> 
> Yes, Pendergast's sword is bigger. It's an arming sword, aka a knightly sword, because I looked at screenshots and tried to match it. Also because he's actually a knight. 
> 
> They eventually move on to archery because 1) they are still technically in England given the fact that England at the time had a less stratified system than the continent given that they didn't really have deposits of valuables, and English archery was such a big thing that I must assume it transcends space and time in a universe where England never unified, 2) Bean did it in 'The Electric Princess' and I needed her to have some practice, 3) it's much easier for her to do from Pendergast's point of view, partially because it keeps her far enough away from battle to run. He's not thinking about it too hard though. That's just me. 
> 
> The joke Pendergast said that Zog noted was, "I've heard people close an eye when they shoot. Maybe it'll help." He legitimately wasn't trying to get handsy either-- Bean kind of was, but Pendergast had a job to do. He was trying to shift Bean so she could shoot, and her centre of gravity is different than his so different things had to be shifted (i.e. hips instead of shoulders). 
> 
> Whew, that's a lot. Sorry to dump it all on you. (Chapter Eight is also going to have a fair few, by the way.)


	7. Here's what you've been waiting for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter contains a sex scene. If you're not interested in that, skip from Pendergast saying, "Well, we'll have to see then, right?" to 'But he had to be back in time for roll call'.

He was an idiot. A weak idiot. Had she planned this?

They were both sweaty from the training he’d given her, (it was just that! Training!) and no matter how many times they knocked each other down, his veins sang with adrenaline. That’s all it was, adrenaline. He was going to marry her soon enough, he could hold back this… tidal wave of emotion until then.

“Shouldn’t you go… meet your friends?” He asked, looking up at the moon and trying to gauge the time of night.   
“Nah, I had Luci distract Elfo tonight.” She had replied. “Hey, walk me back to my room?”

Of course he did—it was the chivalrous thing to do, even if he was the biggest threat to her hymen in the castle, and she could more than defend himself. Had she planned it then?   
“You have a ferocity that is hard to match.” He admitted.   
She grinned at him. “Thanks, Pen.”

“It’s a pity you weren’t born a man, you would have made a wonderful warrior.” He said, because then things could go back to normal.   
She punched his shoulder. “Strong words for a guy who got his ass handed to him.”   
Things weren’t back to normal, but he couldn’t stop himself. He smiled at her. “Well, maybe I’m just a great teacher.”

She laughed. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I’m just a natural born warrior.”   
They reached her room.   
“Hey, do you want to come in?” She asked. “I… like talking to you.”   
He shouldn’t have. He did.

“Will you be a bit quieter this time?” He joked.   
She grinned. “No promises.”   
Maybe it was the scent of her—maybe she had similar thoughts? Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through him. Maybe it was the memory of what they’d done, what they hadn’t done, and how she had felt.

“Well, we’ll have to see then, right?” He shot back.   
She kissed him. It might have been intended as something chaste, but his mouth opened and their tongues met. He pushed her up against the wall—she responded by wrapping her legs around him. Well.

“Bed.” She breathed, breaking away from the kiss momentarily.   
Pendergast was wonderful at following orders. He practically threw her on the bed—princesses should have sex in beds, not against walls like whores, except he was thinking about fucking her against the wall now, and it wasn’t the kind of thought he could push down right now.

Boots were taken off, shirts pulled over heads, laces fumbled with until they were both ready.

And then;

Fingers curled into his hair as she gasped. He broke away for a minute to say, “Not too loud, Tiabeanie.”   
She whined and rolled her hips.   
Pendergast was great at following orders, not to mention this was one he particularly liked. He also liked how she’d press his head down, as though he was about to leave before reaching his goal. Of course not. A knight was chivalrous, and dedicated.

And then;

She was so slick, but was she slick _enough_? He didn’t want to hurt her, he just wanted her to make those sounds again. He wanted to be the one causing those sounds.   
“Please, please, please.” She chanted.   
Well, since she asked.

She gasped, even louder than before as he entered. He was half tempted to cover her mouth…   
“Is this okay?”   
She nodded. “Don’t… don’t stop.”   
_Well_, since she had asked… really, ordered, but still, who was he to judge?

He did end up having to eventually cover her mouth. She then immediately rolled him over and straddled him.   
“See how you like it when _I’m_ in charge.” She said.   
“You were always in charge.” He admitted.

Her face lit up. “_Really_?”   
He nodded, and was about to say something dumb like, ‘you’re a princess’, but then she was kissing him. Kissing him, and moving up and down and the way she felt… that wasn’t fair.   
He rolled her back over, holding her legs up. Her ankles were on his shoulders, his hands on her thighs, and his hips pressed up against hers as he moved again and again and again.  
She had to bite her hand to keep from getting too loud.

The small part of his mind (the logical part) said that he might be going too deep.   
“Is this okay, princess?” It came out huskier than he meant it, and a bit more teasing, but she still nodded even harder.   
“_Yes_.”  
He couldn’t see too much in the dark, but he could see her face, and her eyes half-lidded in lust.   
He was an idiot, a weak idiot, but did that really matter right now? That was for later.

And then;

She had been back on top when he came. She then crawled off of him, both of them satisfied. She had been curled up in his arms, half-under the blanket, when he was weighing the pros and cons of leaving in a slow, sated way. He’d have to move her to do so, his right arm was underneath her, his left arm pulling her close. She was warm, and soft, and felt right in his arms. He’d have to get used to her being there eventually. According to Derek, they were already married. The bed was also warm, and soft, and he didn’t feel like finding his clothes and putting them on in the dark. He also didn’t feel like walking all the way back down to the barracks.

_But_ he had to be back in time for roll call, since that was kind of his job. Also, Zog probably would kill him this time if he found out.   
Well, the cons of leaving outweighed the pros. It was official. Pendergast snuggled down and let himself drift off to sleep.

Of course, Elfo and Luci were having a busy night as well, though obviously not in the same way. Earlier in the night, Elfo had been drinking extra-frothy chocolate milk while Luci tried to make sure he didn’t wander off while keeping an eye on other customers.

“I just—I mean, what does she see in him?”   
“I dunno, the same stuff she’s seen in other men she thought were hot?” Luci suggested. “He’s human, muscular, treats her like a person but also adores her?”   
“I adore her! I treat her like a person!” Elfo tried.   
“…I mean, you’ve been getting better about it since you died and all.” Luci topped up Elfo’s glass. “You still owe me for all these drinks, by the way.”

“I guess I just thought it was going to happen one day.” Elfo gestured vaguely. “Y’know?”   
“Literally no one thought that was going to happen.” Luci replied. “You need to put yourself out there, move on.”   
“Can I tell you a secret?” Elfo leaned forward. “Women don’t really like me. Not elf women, not… big… big human women.”

“So… you attached yourself to Bean because she showed you kindness, and you thought that meant she’d have sex with you, even though she was very explicit about not doing that?” Luci tried.   
“I guess.” Elfo said, staring at his mug.   
“_Or_ because you knew it would never happen, and therefore was safer than pursuing a relationship that would actually fulfill you?” Luci continued.

“You know, I never thought of it that way.” Elfo said. “…Luci, you’re good with women.”   
“I’m _great_ with women. Continue.”   
“How do I get a girlfriend?”

Luci hopped up on the bar to stare at Elfo. “Mm… tough to say. Why don’t you list some of your good qualities, and I’ll tell you if you’re wrong.”   
“I’m cheerful.”   
“I mean, you can be kind of a downer.”   
“I’m honest.”

“Okay, stop listing elf traits.” Luci ordered. “What’s your personality beyond being an elf?”   
“I’m _Elfo_.”   
“And I’m Luci. Have you had too much to drink?” Luci squinted at Elfo, before waving his hand in front of his eyes.   
“No, I mean… I’m not Smarto, or Kindo, or Compasionato, or Witto, or Strongo, or anything like that. I’m _Elfo_. I’m a blank slate to elves. I’ve _never_ known what I was supposed to be.”

Fat tears were rolling down his cheeks.   
“Alright, everyone out.” Luci ordered. “Yeah, that means you guys. Come on. Leave your money and leave.”   
Once everyone else was gone, Luci took off his apron and handed it to Elfo to use as a handkerchief.   
Elfo promptly blew his nose in it.

“Gross, that’s yours now.” Luci said, hopping onto a barstool. “Anyway, remember what Kissy said?”   
“No?”   
“About finding herself, or whatever? I think you need to focus on _you_.” Luci poked Elfo in the chest. “Find out who Elfo is, and then come back and tell me, and then I’ll tell you how Elfo gets women.”

Elfo gave a watery chuckle, and wiped at his eyes. “Thanks, Luci. …it still hurts though, the Bean and Pendergast thing. I mean, does she even really like him?”   
“I mean, I locked them in a closet together.” Luci said. “They didn’t murder each other, which for Bean is saying something.”   
“That was _you_?” Elfo gasped. “I was wondering who did that when I let them out!”

“That was _you_?” Luci replied, just as shocked. “I was going to let them stew for longer. Like a pressure cooker, you know what that is?”   
“No.”   
“It’s a thing we have in hell.” Luci chuckled. “It’s what we cook politicians in. Sometimes it explodes. It’s great.”

Elfo looked at his drink. “Why do you want them together so badly?”   
“’Cause it’ll make Bean happy. You’re the one who is supposed to love her, you should get that.” Luci pointed out.   
“That’s just it. I _don’t_ want her to be happy with him. It… it just makes me so _angry_ thinking about it. And there’s this bitter taste in my mouth…”   
Luci took a swig of Elfo’s drink. “Mm, not the chocolate milk. Maybe you don’t love her after all. Maybe you’re just _obsessed_ with her.”

“Maybe. …I don’t know if I should go to the wedding, Luci.”   
“It’s your choice. Bean’ll probably get it… no, she won’t. Either she’s really good at denial, or she is pointedly ignoring your feelings. It’ll hurt her if you’re not there.”   
Elfo ground his teeth. “I’ve thought about bursting in with the knife, and telling Zog that it’s my blood on her sheets.”

“Phrasing.” Luci suggested. “Also, that won’t work, and you know it. She’ll still marry him.”   
“I _know_!” Elfo shouted suddenly, slamming his fist down on Luci’s bar.   
Luci jumped in surprise. “Easy…”   
“I _know_.” Elfo repeated, more quietly. “She… wait, she’s with him right now, isn’t she?”

“Uh… you weren’t supposed to figure that out…”

“The Bean I know doesn’t miss an opportunity to drink with her _friends_.” Elfo spat.   
“Settle down. She hasn’t forgotten us, she’s just… doing other stuff. Besides, it’s good for her not to be drinking so much, right?”   
“I thought his name was Pendergast, not _other stuff_.”

“O-kay, we’ve hit ‘Bitter Elfo’, so I’m gonna cut you off there.” Luci said. “C’mon, Bean’s not like that. …I mean she is, but that’s not the point. It’s your blood on her sheets, right?”   
“That doesn’t _matter_! All that matters is—”   
Luci tipped over Elfo’s drink with his tail. “All that matters is getting you home to sleep it off, buddy. C’mon.”

“You’re a good friend, Luci.” Elfo said as he was bodily dragged out the door.   
“You take that back, I’m an awful friend.” Luci said, though even drunk Elfo could see the demon’s tail swish from side to side, a sure sign that he was pleased.   
“I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

“That is _not_ taking it back.” Luci said. “…compliment me more.”   
“I _looooove_ you Luci!” Elfo said, having progressed to being a happy drunk.   
“That’s not a compliment, that’s an insult.” Luci huffed. “Besides, you love _everyone_.”   
Elfo giggled. “I guess I don’t love Bean!”   
“Yeah, good catch, buddy.” Luci said, as he pulled Elfo away into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let's talk medieval contraception since neither Bean nor Pendergast is going to. To be fair to them, no one ever actually bothered to take them aside and explain it-- both kind of had neglected childhoods, but that's a subject for later in the story. On the plus side though, neither has an STI if this is their first time!
> 
> There was a kind of reusable condom made from lamb intestines. There were similar experiments in the Renaissance period with linen and other materials. There were, of course, the general medieval medical 'throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks because medicine was written down by the Ancient Greek philosophers and hasn't changed since then', i.e. sticking things up the vagina that don't help at all, sticking things up the vagina that DO help as spermicides (i.e. acacia gum, a mixture of lily root and rue) etc. 
> 
> There were also plants that could be ingested for birth control, like a kind of fennel that went extinct in late Antiquity because of its popularity. Bean and Pendergast weren't going to look that hard though.   
And I mean they could have pulled out. People knew about it. 
> 
> Moving on from Bean and Pendergast's unprotected sexual adventures, I feel like I've been kind of ignoring Luci and Elfo in this fic. I don't necessarily stop, but they do get a few more times to show up and say their piece. It's not mean if it's what happened in Season 1 Part 2.   
Anyway, the idea for Elfo's "I'm Elfo" part of the story came from 'The Cogs in the Machine' by tothineownelfbetrue, which made me think about it that way for the first time. Go check it out, it's a really good story.


	8. A long, long chapter with long, long notes

Pendergast used to pride himself on waking up first in the castle. Pendergast had never realized that no, he didn’t wake up first, Bunty did. The same Bunty who was charged with making sure that Bean was ready for her wedding day on very little notice.

“Up, princess!” Bunty ordered.   
“Hmm?” Bean stirred, still in Pendergast’s arms. Both of them suddenly woke up very quickly.   
Bean pulled the covers over her chest. “Bunty, get out!”   
“I can’t, Princess, you’re getting married today!” Bunty said cheerfully. “You two can stop looking so shocked, I’ve seen naked folk before.”

Pendergast glanced hurriedly between his clothes and Bunty, and wondered if he could get out of there before Zog found out.   
“And you!” Bunty said.   
Pendergast snapped to attention. “Uh, yes ma’am?”   
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding—out you get!” Bunty scolded. “Don’t make me get the broom!”

“I need to get dressed.” Pendergast wasn’t going to risk running into Zog naked and coming from the direction of Bean’s tower. “Also, what do you mean, before the wedding?”   
Bunty put her hands on her hips. “The King said the wedding’s today, so I’ve got a lot of work to do. Go on!”

Pendergast was able to get his breeches on and grab his clothes before Bunty kicked him out. He hopped down the corridor, pulling his boots on.   
“Bunty, what the…” Bean threw her hands in the air, at a loss for words.   
Bunty eyed her. “I’ll have to get Oona’s chemise.”

“Chemise? I thought I was wearing M—Dagmar’s dress again.” Bean said.   
Bunty laughed. “I couldn’t salvage that, love!”   
She left the room, and returned with a chemise over her arm with slightly more room than Bean had expected. She also returned with Miri, both carrying a hot tub of water between them.

Bean waved slightly. “Hi, Miri.”   
Miri waved back once the tub was on the floor. “Hey, Bean. I passed Pendergast on the way up.”   
“Behave, you.” Bunty ordered. “Princess, can you get in?”

Bean acquiesced. Before Miri could leave, Bean said, “You’re coming to my wedding, right? Both of you?”   
“Arms up. We need to scrub the sin away.” Bunty said.   
“Uh… I mean, sure, if you want me there.” Miri replied.   
Bean’s face lit up. “Thanks Miri. I’ve never had friends my own age before, much less my own age _and_ a girl.”

“I know.” Miri said. “I’ve been working here about as long as Pendergast has.”   
Bunty glared at her. “Miri!”   
“It’s okay, Bunts.” Bean said. “Miri and I are friends, right? I mean, you said I was your friend before you had me go up on that stage—”   
Bunty nearly dropped the jug of water that she was pouring on Bean. “Stage? Stages are for whores, dear.”

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Miri said. “Um, you know I can’t give you wedding presents, right?”   
Bean spat out water. “Yeah, I know. I don’t really want anything. I didn’t even know I was getting married until Bunty came in today.”   
“Oh no, that’s on purpose. I overheard Odval and Sorcerio talking about it.”   
“Milords Odval and Sorcerio.” Bunty corrected. “It’s not worth getting’ yer ‘ead chopped off over. Honestly, Miri, I thought you knew better than to talk to the princess. What’s next, you’ll talk to the king?”

“She started it.” Miri said.   
“I don’t care who started it, she’s a princess, you’re a mop girl. Gather the sheets, she needs clean sheets before the wedding.”   
“She’s marrying _Pendergast_, it’s not like she’s the Empress of Maru.” Miri muttered.   
Bean winced. “Actually, I think that might be my mom.”

“What, really?” Miri asked as she stripped the sheets.   
Bean nodded.   
“’Ere comes the soap.” Bunty said, before working in a lather.

Miri stared at the sheets. “Um… didn’t you and Pendergast already…?”   
“Well, last night we did. How bad is it?” Bean said, before Bunty could butt in.   
“I don’t know if this is salvageable…” Miri muttered. “Jesus, Bean… what, did you get your monthly in the middle of it?”   
“_Miri_!” Bunty hissed.

“No, I mean, it hurt a bit in the beginning—”   
“Atatata, I don’t need to know.” Miri said. “Um, Bunty, what do I…?”   
“Bring it down to the laundry, Dagmar did the same thing.” Bunty said in a tone of long-suffering mixed with a bit of nostalgia. “I had that sheet whiter than her hair when I returned it.”

Miri let out a low whistle. “More impressive than anything I’ve seen Sor… _milord_ Sorcerio do.”   
Bunty waved her away, before pouring water over Bean’s head. “Right, you’re… you’re as clean as a child on his funeral day. Again. I never thought we’d be here twice.”   
“Nothing has to change, Bunts.” Bean said.

“That’s what I told myself last time.” Bunty said, before laughing softly. “You’re growing up, Bean.”   
“I _guess_.” Bean said.   
“You know, I think of you like a daughter.” Bunty said. “And in many ways, I’ve grown more attached to you than my actual children.”   
“Aw, Bunty…” Bean twisted in the bath. “That’s… Thank you, Bunty. I wish you were my real mom.”

“Thank you, love. Out of the tub now.” Bunty said. She helped Bean towel off, then helped her into the chemise she’d gotten.   
“So why a chemise this time?” Bean asked as Bunty pulled it on the edges so it wouldn’t catch anywhere and make it awkward. Bunty then handed Bean woolen stockings, which Bean put on.

“You’re going to wear Dreamland fashion, instead of Maruvian fashion.” Bunty said, tying a breast girdle on Bean’s chest for support. “The King asked. …I know you have more Maruvian fashion in your closet, since Dagmar made it popular, but… it’s better this way.”   
“I won’t have to wear one of Oona’s old dresses, right? That seems kind of weird.” Bean said.   
“Oh, no!” Bunty said cheerfully. “If I remember correctly, Lady Lingonberry gifted you a lovely kirtle from France two years ago!”

“Huh.” Bean said, before Bunty led her over to the vanity and began brushing her hair. “I thought we didn’t like the French.”   
“Oh, we don’t, but they make lovely clothes.” Bunty said. Her brushing exposed Bean’s neck, which revealed a hickey.

Bean laughed nervously. “How’d that get there?”   
Bunty sighed. “Maybe we could cover that with a necklace, or makeup?” She went to Bean’s jewelry box, only to find it all dumped about hither and yon.   
Bean twisted in her chair. “Yeah I… well, you see, Elfo stabbed himself on Pendergast’s castle-issued knife, and that’s where the blood _you_ found came from, and I hid the knife in the jewelry box…”   
“Did Elfo also put a naked man in your bed?”

Bean flushed. “…fair point.”   
Bunty returned to coil Bean’s hair, and pin it up with a hairnet jeweled with sapphires. Then she hooked a matching pendant necklace around Bean’s neck.   
“You look so much like your mother.” Bunty said, although it seemed to be more for her benefit than Bean’s. “So beautiful…”

Bean didn’t really know how to deal with that.   
Bunty then got the kirtle from the closet—it was blue linen, and it was a bit tighter than Bean had expected, but still nice. The wrists flared out in a bell shape, revealing her white chemise underneath. Embroidery swirled down it, and the train dragged out a bit behind her, but not to an obnoxious extent. If she squinted, she thought that she could see a seahorse, the Grunkowitz family sigil, swimming around the train with the rest of the embroidery.  
Bunty glanced at the vanity. “Oh, where’s the lip stain? I’ll be right back.”   
Bean sat down on the couch. “Whew.”

“Hello, Bean.” Said a familiar voice from the window.   
Bean tensed. “Hello, _Dagmar_.”   
Dagmar smiled, then pulled herself through the window. “Why the hostility? I’ve just come to wish you well on your wedding day. I always hoped I’d be able to see you walk down the aisle to a man that you love.”   
Bean stood, scoffing. “You always hoped I’d put on that-that screwy crown!”

Dagmar bowed her head in acceptance. “That doesn’t mean that I hoped you would die. I simply hoped that you would gain more power.”   
“I don’t trust you.” Bean spat.   
Dagmar shrugged. “You don’t have to trust me. I’ve found that most women don’t like their mothers—hence, why I murdered mine.”

“I’m not putting on the crown, so why don’t you just leave!” Bean crossed to the mantel and grabbed Pendergast’s knife in a fluid motion.   
Dagmar didn’t move. “I just wanted to see my daughter on her wedding day. You look so beautiful, Bean. Every inch a princess. I hope he deserves you.”   
“He does.” Bean said, still gripping the knife.

“Oh, is that his?” Dagmar asked. “How sweet of a wedding gift. Zog always underestimated me, that was his downfall. I’m glad that your… Pendergast, was it? I’m glad that he doesn’t underestimate you.”   
Bean snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause I can kick his ass.”   
Dagmar chuckled. “How similar we are, Bean. I hope that you and Pendergast are quite happy together, and that you have a daughter just like yourself.”

Bean bristled. “I hope I have a daughter just like you! Wait, no, I worded that wrong.”   
Dagmar laughed. “It doesn’t matter. I just came by to give you a wedding gift.”   
Bean raised the knife. “I don’t want your gifts.”

“Don’t be silly, I gave you so many—life, magic, your hair…” Dagmar trailed off, before clearing her throat. “I’ll stop harassing you in your dreams.”   
“That was you?” Bean demanded.   
“Oh yes. I learned it from the demons.” Dagmar replied. “You know where to find me if you need me, don’t you?”

“I don’t need you.” Bean spat.   
“Not yet. Never say never.” Dagmar said, before waving her fingers and disappearing out the window.   
“You just said ‘never’!” Bean called after her.   
“Who was that, love?” Bunty asked, entering at just the right (or wrong, depending on your perspective) moment.

“Dagmar was here.” Bean resisted the urge to throw the knife after her. Pendergast would _probably_ want it back.   
“Was she?” Bunty said, eyes darting around the room. “Is she… still here?”   
Bean shook her head, and Bunty breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, come here. I found the lip stain, and some of Oona’s eyeliner! Fancy that!”

“What about face powder?” Bean asked.   
“Oh, yes, don’t worry, it’s right here.” Bunty chuckled. “Now, hold your face still.”   
Bean, for once, did as instructed, and kept still as Bunty washed her face with strawberry juice, then cleaned it up before putting a paste made of wheat and rosewater on Bean’s face, careful not to spill on the kirtle.

“Why do I need the powder, anyway?” Bean asked, fidgeting after Bunty moved away.   
“You’re covered in freckles! They show you’ve been outside, not inside, like a proper rich woman!” Bunty clucked.   
Bean pulled a face. “He _knows_ I have freckles—hell, he knows I’ve been allowed outside.”   
“Yes, but you’re meant to look nice today.” Bunty replied, reaching for the lip stain. “This will make you look healthier, and not just pale.”

“I thought the point was for me to be pale.” Bean pointed out.   
“Well, not all over.” Bunty replied. “Eyes up.”   
Bean looked up as Bunty lined her eyes in some sort of kohl.   
“This will really make them pop.” Bunty said. “Like when you squeeze a rabbit too hard.”

“Thanks, Bunts.” Bean deadpanned.   
Bunty smiled, then washed her hands in the tub, and tied a long, white belt studded with pearls around Bean’s waist, letting it hang down in front of her.   
“Wait, what about my cheeks?” Bean asked.

“Oh, I’ll pinch those when you’re ready, wouldn’t want them to fade.” Bunty replied blithely, fixing Bean’s hairnet, since Bean moving around had jarred it a bit. Bunty seemed to consider this conundrum, then had found an old white bone comb in the jewelry box to pin the hairnet to Bean’s hair.

“So, uh… what do I do until the wedding?” Bean asked.   
“Well, this is when someone would tell you about the wedding night. Last time, Oona came in and told you. Did Dagmar do it while I was gone?”   
“Uh, no.” Bean replied.   
Bunty settled herself, rather like a mother hen on a brood of eggs. “Your lordly husband has his right to do what he wants with you.”

Bean waited for Bunty to continue. “And?”   
“And that’s it.” Bunty said happily. “Nine months later, God willing, you’ll have a wee babe of your own!”   
“Really?” Bean asked.

“I know! Only nine months!” Bunty chuckled, before her face became deadly serious. “Pregnancy is awful, Bean. Childbirth is worst, especially with your first.”   
“Wh… what happened to your first?” Bean asked.   
“She ripped me cat to donkey!” Bunty proclaimed. Before Bean could puzzle this out, Bunty continued, “She’s a seamstress in Twinkletown now, such a good girl. She’s about your age, actually. I was your wet nurse.”

“Ah. I see.” Bean said, because there was no good reaction to that.   
Bunty hugged her gently, then rose. “I have to get working in the kitchens. Your cat and elf are here, though.”   
And indeed, as Bunty left, Luci and Elfo entered.

“Wow, Bean, you look a lot better in that than as discount Dagmar.” Luci immediately commented.   
“Aw, thanks, Luci. Hey, Elfo, are you doing okay?” Bean asked.   
“He just had a bit too much to drink last night—”   
“I don’t love you.” Elfo said.

Bean blinked. “Uh… okay. That’s not the weirdest thing anyone’s said to me today, but at least it wasn’t Dagmar or Pen…” She trailed off.   
“Oh, do tell, Bean.” Luci said. “As far as anyone’s known, you’ve been in your room all day.”   
“I have.” Bean said. “The only ones who came in were Miri, Dagmar, Bunty, and you guys.”

“I feel like Dagmar’s the bigger worry here.” Elfo said, hopping onto the couch as Bean got her boots. She sat down on the couch next to him to put them on.

“You didn’t say anything about anyone leaving.” Luci pointed out. “Dang, Bean. Get it.”   
“I did _get it.”_ Bean admitted, grinning. “It was _great_.”   
“Okay, I don’t think we need to hear about you and Pendergast.” Elfo said quickly. “Which, by the way, ew. Luci, aren’t you worried about Dagmar?”

“Unless she’s got another bottle to stick me in, no.” Luci said.   
“I think she’s going to wait until I have a kid.” Bean said, shuddering. She bit her lip thinking about it, as she pulled on her left boot.   
“Don’t smudge your makeup!” Elfo huffed. He made his way over to the vanity, acquiring the lip stain and white powder.

“So _are_ you and Pendergast going to have kids?” Luci asked, swinging his legs to and fro. “Agh, I bet they’d have your teeth.”   
“Nice, Luci.” Bean deadpanned, pulling on her right boot. “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it besides not wanting to die.”   
“Wait, human women die when they spawn?” Elfo asked, aghast.

“Oh yeah.” Luci said. “Well, not always, because people die for more reasons that that, and there are always slightly more births than deaths, but sometimes. A lot. Don’t worry, Bean. You’d be in Sorcerio’s capable hands.”   
Bean’s hands shook as she tied the laces on her boots. “Not funny, Luci.”   
Luci jumped up on her shoulder. “Look, Pendergast isn’t the kind of guy to force you to have children. And besides, Bunty’s had lots of births, she’s probably a qualified midwife. I don’t think Zog and Pendergast would actually let Sorcerio in the birthing room.”

“We’d help too, right Luci?” Elfo asked.   
“Thanks, guys.” Bean took a deep breath. “This is the kind of thing I always assumed I’d talk over with my mom.”   
“Well, Dagmar didn’t die in childbirth. Neither has Bunty, or Oona. I assume you don’t talk to other women who’ve had kids.” Luci pointed out. “So I don’t know how she’d help you. Me, on the other hand, I’ve met _plenty_ of women who died in childbirth. You have pretty normal hips, you should be fine.”

“Thanks, Luci.” Bean asked. “Is that the only thing though? Hips?”   
“Oh no, it’s a terrible process, but what I’m saying is that you should at least be able to get the baby out, y’know? Unless it has to be cut out of you, then you’re pretty much fucked.”   
“_Thanks, _Luci.” Bean repeated. “Just… stop talking.”

“Mm, debatable, but sure.” Luci said.   
Elfo began chattering about nothing in particular, and Bean relaxed, just a bit.   
Bunty eventually returned, and pinched Bean’s cheeks. “Are you ready?”   
“Yeah, I think so.” Bean admitted. “Are you guys coming?”

“Of course, you couldn’t keep us away!” Elfo said.   
Luci glanced over at him, then smiled. “Yeah, why not?”   
“Cat, pick up the train, we don’t want it dragging in the mud.” Bunty ordered.   
Luci did as he was told. “So… is this a _inside_ the church kind of wedding, or…?”

“She’s a princess—of course it’s inside the church.” Bunty said dismissively. She fixed a lace veil over Bean’s face, then thrust newly budded flowers into Bean’s hands. “Now, princess, you shouldn’t be walking into the church with a knife. Where’ve you hidden it?”   
“I’ll take it.” Elfo said.

Luci frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”   
“You’re right, cat. Babies shouldn’t have knives. Where is it?”   
Bean shrugged. “I put it in one of my boots. It’s ah… it’s something borrowed.”   
“Well, far be it for me to consider the symbolism of Pendergast’s knife in your boot.” Bunty said cheerfully. “Off we pop, your royal father’s waiting.”

Indeed, Zog was waiting outside the castle portcullis. “Beanie, you look… you look real swell.”   
“Thanks, Dad.” Bean said, as Bunty hiked up her skirts and ran towards the direction of the church to get there before them.   
Zog took Bean’s arm, and patted her hand. “I… I want you to know it’s not too late. If you don’t want to do this. I’ve learned from last time, and I would prefer ya don’t kill Pendergast.”

“I’m not going to kill Pendergast!” Bean protested.   
“Not even with the knife in your boot?” Elfo pointed out.   
“That’s _his_ knife.” Bean said. “I’m giving it back to him.”   
“Weird that, since I caught him coming from the direction of your room this morning.” Zog pointed out as they walked towards the church. “Coulda given it back to him then.”

Bean flushed under the makeup. “_Dad_.”   
“I’m just sayin’, you could have waited an extra day.” Zog said.   
“I didn’t know we were getting married until I woke up!” Bean protested.   
Zog chuckled. “Yeah, that was a smart decision of mine. Man, I am on a _roll_ recently.”   
Bean groaned.

“Hey, what’s that nailed to the church door?” Elfo asked as they approached.   
“Better not be more theses regarding the problems with the church.” Zog grumbled.   
Bean squinted at it before they went in. “Oh, it’s an announcement regarding my marriage. So everyone in town knew before I did?”   
“Hey, this was sent out the day after you and Pendergast got up to hanky panky.” Zog said. “So if anyone had a problem with the marriage, they could say so and not actually ruin the ceremony.”

“Is there still time for that?” Elfo asked.   
“Dude, _don’t_.” Luci said.   
“Eh.” Zog replied.

Elfo grabbed the knife from Bean’s boot. “The blood on Bean’s sheet was mine. Pendergast didn’t break her blood seal.”   
“Elfo!” Bean and Luci hissed together.   
“Okay. Why does that matter?” Zog asked.

“Because… now she doesn’t _have_ to marry him.” Elfo said in a small voice.   
“Elf, let me tell you something. I’ve long since given up on trying to get Bean to _have_ to do anything. So Pendergast had better sense than to touch my daughter—good. That’s not gonna change what people _think_ happened, and even if I broke off the marriage, no one else’d have her. Besides, she’d probably just run off with him—do you see her running now?”

“No.” Elfo said.   
“Bean, do you want Pendergast to be your husband?” Zog continued.   
“I… yeah.” Bean admitted. “Yeah, I do.”   
Zog smiled. “That’s good. That’s good… let’s not keep him waitin’ then, huh?”   
Bean smiled back. “Yeah.” Then she shot a glare at Elfo as she tucked the knife back into her boot.

They pushed the door open, and the assembled people (read: the people who were there on short notice) stood. Bean waved at some of them, like Miri. Elfo left to sit with the other elves who had been invited, mostly Rulo and Kissy. At the back of the church stood a dark, cloaked figure that everyone noticed but no one wanted to comment on. Bean in particular pointedly didn’t look at her. She fixed her eyes on Pendergast.

It felt like forever until she reached the altar. It felt like no time at all. It was probably somewhere in between.   
Zog melted away from her side—when did he leave? And the Arch-Druidess was talking.   
“I do.” Pendergast said—that she noticed, mostly because she was staring right at him.   
“And do you, Princess Tiabeanie Mariabeanie de la Rochambeau Grunkwitz of Dreamland, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in poverty, and in wealth, ‘til death should part you both?”   
“I do.” That was easy. Why was it so easy?

“You may now exchange the rings.” The Arch-Druidess intoned.   
Panic briefly flitted across Pendergast’s face, which mirrored how Bean felt… until she felt something nudge her arm. Luci had let go of the train, and now was holding out two rings.   
“Where did you get these?” Bean whispered.   
“Stole ‘em.” Luci replied.

Bean and Pendergast took the rings anyway, and slipped them onto each other’s fingers.   
“I know pronounce you man and wife. With this kiss, you may seal your marriage.” The Arch-Druidess said as Pendergast lifted Bean’s lace veil out of the way.

It wasn’t a chaste kiss that Pendergast pulled her into, but really, nothing about their relationship was _chaste_.   
“Stop feelin’ up my daughter, let’s go eat!” Zog yelled.   
They broke away, and Bean couldn’t stop grinning. With her hand entwined in Pendergast’s, everything felt kinda nice. Maybe marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Then Merkimer burst into the church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY let's settle in for some long-ass notes for a long-ass chapter. 
> 
> I say 'Dreamland fashion' because I wanted Bean to wear something different for this wedding. It seems a lot like huge, poofy skirts are fashionable in Dreamland, but that's not accurate to the time period. Honestly, Oona seems to be the most accurate in terms of fashion at the time. Corsets, huge skirts, etc., are all more 1400s-1500s. 
> 
> Bean's dress is pretty accurate, there were a lot of layers, but the chemise might not really have been seen. Often, there was a surcoat that went over the kirtle as well... but I decided that Dreamland's weather actually seems weirdly hot most of the time. It's not cold enough to justify multiple layers of wool and linen at all. I'm not doing this to her on her wedding day. 
> 
> The kirtle being linen is something that I kind of did on purpose. Dreamland doesn't seem to be rich in anything at all. Zog once had to share a fork with a guest. In keeping with that, no, her dress wasn't going to be silk. (Also, I think everyone would be scared of her destroying a precious silk dress.) Blue was a popular wedding dress colour before Queen Victoria popularized white, as it meant basically the same things, i.e. purity. The lace negates this, since it had to be made by hand and was incredibly time consuming and expensive, therefore only really available to the upper classes. I decided to integrate it into her veil for cultural synthesis. 
> 
> In regards to the make-up as well, I took a bit of liberty. Yes, there WERE options for make-up, and the face poaste was definitely used as I mentioned in the text, as was lip stain. But apparently, eye/eyebrow makeup was much less popular based on dolls that have been found. Well, no one in Disenchantment actually HAS eyebrows anyway. 
> 
> The thing nailed to the church door was actually something that would have been left in FRONT of the church, as a way for people to object before the wedding, since you weren't actually supposed to interrupt the actual wedding. Our good friend the town crier probably also would have been involved. Weirdly, some of the sources I looked at mentioned that the ride and groom also would have been thoroughly questioned DURING the wedding as to any reason they shouldn't be wed, but that kind of ruined the flow and the atmosphere. 
> 
> Please don't ask me to describe Pendergast's formal wear I'm still getting over that Austin Powers thing from 'Love's Tender Rampage'.
> 
> Something old: the bone comb,   
Something new: the kirtle  
Something borrowed: the chemise from Oona's closet or Pendergast's knife   
Something blue: the kirtle or the jewelry


	9. I arbitrarily decided Bean's birthday is in the majority of this chapter

“Vikings! Vikings!” Merkimer squealed as he ran up the aisle. He nearly ran into Bean (and he did run into Pendergast) before he stopped, and looked up. “What? I wasn’t invited to the wedding?”   
“You and Bean don’t have a good track record regarding marriages.” Luci pointed out, climbing up the train of Bean’s dress to her shoulder.

The figure in the cloak slipped out the back.   
“What’s all this about Vikings when my daughter’s gettin’ married?” Zog demanded.   
“Vikings—Land Vikings, really—have attacked Bentwood.” Merkimer said. “I know the trade agreement didn’t go through, but the defense pact…”

“Is still in place.” Zog finished, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Has Lorenzo lit the beacons?”   
Merkimer nodded. “It’s why I ran here so fast. Bentwood calls for aid.”   
“Agh, and Dreamland shall answer.” Zog said. “Pendergast, armor up with your boys. Odval, get every able-bodied man who can fight. We’re going to need to move fast.”   
Pendergast’s hand tightened on Bean. “But…” He sighed. “Yes, sir.”

He moved to let go of Bean, but she held onto him. “Dad, we _just_ got married.”   
“Yeah, and be thankful the Vikings didn’t _interrupt_ the ceremony.” Zog said. “Derek, you’re in charge of the kingdom while I’m gone. Beanie, help Derek not get lynched.”   
“I would be honored to pledge men to the defense of Dreamland.” Rulo pointed out from the front row. “Not you, though, Elfo.”   
Zog nodded. “’Ppreciate that, Rulo. Let’s go.” He and most of the men streamed out of the church.

“This isn’t _fair_.” Bean said. “I just…! I don’t want you to go.”   
“I _have_ to go. It’s my duty.” Pendergast said.   
Bean’s hands curled into his doublet. “Then… it’s also your duty to come back. It’s an official order, from the princess of Dreamland.”   
Pendergast grinned. “Of course, princess. I was always going to. …don’t worry, it’ll only be a few days at most. The Vikings won’t be expecting us, we’ll be able to route them quickly.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I love you, Bean.”   
“I-I love you too, Pen.” Bean stumbled over it. He gave her another kiss. “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

And then he left her alone in the church.   
“Well, it’s not the _worst_ wedding you’ve had.” Luci commented, as Derek came up and took Bean’s hand.   
“Bean?” Derek said. “I’m scared.”   
“Me too, Derek.” Bean said, squeezing his hand. “Me too.”

Within the hour, most of the kingdom’s men were ready to march towards Bentwood. Within an hour and a half, they were streaming out of the gates, only a skeleton group left behind to protect Dreamland.   
Bean, out of her wedding dress and makeup, watched them from her balcony with a bottle of beer in her hand.

“What happens if the Vikings come here?” Elfo asked.   
“They won’t. He said he’d come back.” Bean said firmly. The elves were marching now.   
Luci gently took the bottle from her fingers via his tail. “Why don’t you focus on Derek? I bet he could use some help right now.”   
“Mm…” Bean kept her eyes on the stream of men moving out of Dreamland. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

Elfo and Luci exchanged a look.   
“Don’t say that.” Elfo said. “He’s… he’s good at fighting. He’s survived this long, hasn’t he?”   
Bean went to take a sip, only to realize that her bottle was gone. Luci dropped it into the courtyard below.   
“Luci, what the hell!” Bean hissed.

“Boo hoo, Pendergast is riding off to war. He’s a knight, that’s his job. He’s more likely to come back than any of those poor sods who don’t have _horses_.” Luci gestured to the men of Dreamland on the horizon. “He came back from finding Tess, he came back from finding the Eternity Pendant, and he came back from this Lemon Crusade thing everyone mentioned. Losing an eye’s better than losing a limb. He’ll come back, even if no one else does.”

“Oh, God, Dad…” Bean wiped at her eyes. “Dad’s also going, and I was just worried about Pen—”   
“Stop beating yourself up, we’ve all forgotten about Zog at different points.” Elfo said. “I, for example, often forget about Zog unless he’s right in front of me.”   
“Nice.” Luci commented, before there was a knock at the door.

Derek entered. “Bean? Can I talk to you?”   
“Hey, Derek.” Bean said. “Do you have any beer?”   
“No?”   
“Absinthe? Vodka? Wine?” Bean tried.   
“No.” Derek said, coming to stand next to her at the balcony. “Um… can you help me? With being a king?”   
“Why not ask Odval?” Bean snorted.

“Remember that dream I had? Where he eventually burned you to death?” Derek shuddered. “Please, Bean? It’ll take your mind off of your disaster wedding.”   
Bean bristled. “It wasn’t a _disaster_. The first wedding was, but this one wasn’t.”   
“Okay.” Derek said, because he wanted her to agree and come with him.

She did.   
“Um… I heard Elfo asking about what if the Vikings attack…” Derek began. “You know something about training, right? I heard you and Pendergast talking yesterday.”   
“Yeah?” Bean asked. “How much did you hear?”   
“Not too much.” Derek assured her. “Um… can you train some of the women we have left too? Just in case?”

Bean paused for a minute, then said, “Elves.”   
“Huh?”   
“The elf women left should help too.” Bean said. “When Elfwood was under attack, they took out a lot of the knights, and they didn’t distinguish by gender. They can help train people too.”   
“Okay.” Derek said.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s going to happen.” Bean laughed.   
It did happen.

Admittedly, what the women of Dreamland had going for them was pure, unbridled rage finally being given a chance to come forth. Bunty in particular was incredibly brutal. Odval had promptly retired to sunbathe on the roof of Sorcerio’s tower upon finding out about Derek’s plans, and Sorcerio was boycotting in protest. Derek’s council therefore was mostly made up of Bean, Luci, Elfo, and Kissy, representing the elves left behind.

Derek turned to look at Elfo, who was sitting in Odval’s regular chair. “So are we falling behind on production of kingdom goods?”   
“Yeah, but no more than we expected when half our workforce left. Training women in batches is probably the best possible plan.” Elfo pointed out, shuffling papers in front of him.   
“We probably won’t need it.” Bean said from Pendergast’s chair. “But it’s nice to give people an outlet, and something to focus on.”

“Besides, you all turned down my idea to make it mandatory.” Luci sighed from Sorcerio’s chair.   
Derek brushed his hair out of his face. “Lady Kissy—”   
“Oh Derek, you don’t need to be so formal.” Kissy said for what must have been the hundredth time.   
“Lady Kissy, what about the elves?” Derek asked. “How is your production of kingdom goods?”

“Fairly well, but we may need a new clinic to open soon in Elf Alley.” Here Kissy shot Luci an angry look, before continuing. “We’ve been having small outbreaks of fever, and we’d prefer to nip it in the bud before it becomes an epidemic.”

Derek jotted this down. “Any particular type of fever?”   
“We don’t know the human term for it, but we call it Cotton Candy Fever.” Kissy replied.   
Elfo gasped. “That’s serious.”   
“Can it spread to humans?” Derek asked. “Should Elf Alley go under quarantine again?”   
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary yet—none of the human women have come down with it to my knowledge.”

“How much money do you need?” Derek asked, continuing to write things down.   
“We don’t actually _need_ any money—we’re independently wealthy.” Kissy pointed out. “What we really need is manpower and—”  
A bell began ringing, and everyone jumped.   
“Maybe it’s the Dreamland soldiers returning.” Luci said, looking at Bean.   
“Maybe it’s the traders approaching the bay—they’re overdue.” Derek shuffled his papers in front of him. “I’m going to enact a new trade license.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m proud of you.” Bean told him.   
Miri ran in, panting. “Milords, Bean, Elf Princess, there’s a land ship appr—_Jesus_, those stairs… Land Vikings are approaching!”   
“Where are the troops?” Bean demanded, standing up.

Everyone followed her and Miri out of the room.   
“I want those who can’t fight—the elderly, the children—brought to the cheese vault for safety.” Derek said. “Elfo, get it done.”   
“Yes sir!” Elfo ran off.   
“I’ll go with him to make sure it actually _gets_ done.” Luci said, scurrying after Elfo.

“Miri, Kissy, come with me. I want the men on the walls pulled, and the archers on the roofs of Baker’s lane so we can bottleneck them.” Bean said.   
“Like we practiced on the tactical map?” Kissy said.   
Bean nodded. “Melee attackers waiting between the fountain and the castle.”

Kissy nodded. “I’ll go set it up.”   
Bean turned back to Miri. “How far away are they?”   
“I dunno, we just saw them.” Miri said.   
Bean shrugged. “I don’t know how long we have. C’mon!”

They ran into the courtyard, where most of the women they’d trained had assembled. Kissy had already given marching orders, and people were beginning to split off into groups.   
Bean stopped for a minute in the doorway to catch her breath (Miri, behind her, did the exact same thing).   
Bean then straightened. “People of Dreamland! Elves! Women! People who are both, or neither! This is not a drill, we’re fighting for our lives today! The Vikings somehow circumvented our men—but they’re not getting around us! As long as we still draw breath, they’re not taking our lives! They’re not taking _us_! They’re not taking this kingdom! Who’s ready to kill some men?!”

The women rattled their weapons.   
“We were left behind because we’re going to take care of the Vikings—and when our men come back, they’ll see that we did what they couldn’t!” Bean continued. “Now, let’s get out there and make sure no one burns down our homes or sources of income!”   
The women cheered. Bean collected her bow and quiver, as well as a red cloak to distinguish her as the leader. “Archers, with me!”

“Melee fighters, with me!” Kissy called in the background as the archers moved out with Bean.   
Miri jogged up next to Bean. “…you really believe he’s coming back, huh?”   
“I have to.” Bean huffed.   
“It’s been a few weeks, Bean.” Miri muttered.   
“He’s _busy_.” Bean insisted. “We have to believe they’re coming back, Miri, or it’ll ruin morale.”

“Okay, okay, I get that.” Miri said, pulling up her own cloak. “…want me to take half to the other side of Baker’s Lane?”   
“Yeah. Don’t fire until I give the signal.” Bean said.   
She helped her team of women get up onto the thatched roofs that marked Dreamland, then they all lay in wait.

The Land Viking ship sailed up through the streets. As expected, they had to go down Baker’s Lane, since it was the only one leading to the castle that was wide enough to accommodate them.   
Bean held up her hand, then brought it down quickly. A flurry of arrows hit the ship, knocking out several Vikings. Her team immediately ducked down behind the roof, then Miri’s team attacked.

“Go, go, go.” Bean whispered, having them leap across to the next few houses as the ship fired back at where the archers _had_ been. Bean winced, noticing that they had fire arrows.   
“Get them!” A female voice screamed in anger.   
Bean frowned—that wasn’t Miri, had Miri fallen?   
She was about to peek over the roof she was perched behind, when another flurry of arrows descended.

The Vikings had women on their side. That wasn’t fair, that was Bean’s idea!   
Bean made the arm movement again, and her team got in position. Bean tipped an arrow to the blazing house next door, and passed it down the line. She repeated this until all of her archers had flaming arrows. She made a smaller version of the hand movement, and all of her archers—including her—fired on the ship.

That was when she noticed the Viking woman climbing up the side of their building.   
She motioned to her archers to run, then waited for the Viking to get up there.   
“Ha ha, caught you.” The Viking woman said, right before Bean kicked her in the gut.   
She went flying to the edge of the roof. The ship sailed on—hopefully Miri’s team made it out and would regroup with her team behind the melee fighters.

The Viking wiped her mouth. “And here I thought that Dreamland women were all quiet and ladylike.”   
“And here I thought all Vikings were guys.” Bean shot back.   
The Viking laughed. “I like you. I wish you’d been born a Danelander.”   
She drew a sword, and leapt for Bean.

Bean managed to get out of the way—but her cloak was pinned to the roof, revealing her hair and face.  
Bean then drew Pendergast’s knife from her boot, shifting it to her left hand.   
“So, you planned an ambush, well done.” The Viking said. Her braided hair was beginning to come loose, but she still had a massive grin on her face. “What now?”   
“Now’s the part where I kill you.” Bean replied.

The Viking laughed. “No, this is the part where _I_ kill _you_. …wait a second, aren’t you that princess that dropped my brother into the ocean?”   
“He started it!” Bean replied, swiping at the Viking.   
“I’m sure he did. He’s not here, by the way, he’s handling the siege of Bentwood.” The Viking replied off-handedly, parrying Bean handily with her sword.

“I don’t—that’s still going on?” Bean asked.   
The Viking shrugged. “Last I checked. I only say because it’s awkward to run into your exes.”   
Bean laughed. “He is _not_ my ex.”   
“Close enough, for Dreamland women.” The Viking then smiled mischievously. “You know, I saw some of your men at the siege. Good fighters—most of them, anyway, like the one-eyed knight? And I had been wondering how such aggressive men had such meek wives, but here you are, proving me wrong.”

Bean nearly slipped off of the roof. “You saw Pen?”   
“That’s his name?” The Viking cocked her head. “Mm… how English. He’s dead.”   
“_What_?”   
“Last time I saw him, he and my brother were moving towards combat. My brother doesn’t generally lose.” The Viking shrugged. “You are a fluke, and one that he survived.”

She wasn’t expecting Bean to tackle her off of the roof, her sword going flying. Pendergast’s knife landed nearby.   
“This has been fun, but it’s fun that must end.” The Viking spat, rolling to get on top.   
Bean kicked her in the stomach again, then scrambled for the knife. “Yeah, _so_ fun.”   
The Viking stumbled to her feet, wheezing. She then tried to lunge for Bean, who brought up the knife and…

The Viking brought a hand to her thigh, where Bean had stabbed her. “I can’t take this out.”   
“It’s okay, I will.” Bean said, standing up.   
Blood began to pool under the Viking’s hand, and she cursed. “You cut… I’m going to bleed out.”   
“Good! Pen probably bled out too!” Bean hissed.   
The Viking shook her head. “I surrender.”

“I don’t accept.” Bean huffed.   
The Viking collapsed against the wall.   
Bean hesitated, then recovered her cloak. She tied it around the Viking’s leg as a tourniquet, then pulled out the knife. She wiped it on the Viking’s leggings, put it in her boot, then collected her stray arrows and the Vikings sword. She unhooked the scabbard and hooked it around her own waist, along with the sword, then started dragging the Viking by her arms.   
“See? You’re _nice_.” The Viking said.   
“I am half tempted to drop you.” Bean growled. “Shut up.”

She took back alleys to the archer rendezvous point, then loaded the Viking up in a cart set up to carry fighters away from the battle. “That one goes in the dungeon.”   
“_Nice_.” The Viking called again as Bean returned to the front lines.   
“Welcome back, Freckles.” Miri said as Bean took her place on a roof. “We were getting kinda worried about you.”   
Both women nocked an arrow and fired at the same time.

“Nah, I won that fight.” Bean said. “She’s nothing but a _lying_ Viking.”   
Bean shot another arrow, and managed to hit a guy in the eye.   
Half of the melee forces appeared from another alleyway, and flanked the Vikings.   
“I mean, you’re right. Kindness isn’t weakness.” Miri replied. “…you okay?”   
Bean shot another arrow. “I’m _fine_.”

Bunty held up the head of a man she had cut off with her husband’s axe, and let out a feral roar. Most of the Vikings who were left froze.   
“I’M GOING TO KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU BASTARDS!” Bunty screamed.   
“…okay, I’m kinda scared of Bunty.” Bean admitted.   
“Yeah, join the club.” Miri agreed.

Evidently, the Vikings were part of said club, because those that were left surrendered and were taken to the dungeon. Overall, it was a very clear Dreamland victory.   
Bean stood up on the roof. “Ladies, that ship and everything on it are yours! You earned it!”   
The ship was immediately swarmed.   
“Aren’t you going to get anything?” Miri asked.

“Nah, I’m… I’m heading back to the castle.” Bean said. “I’ve been feeling weirdly tired lately.”   
Miri bit her lip. “I think you might be pregnant.”   
“What?” Bean said, completely taken off guard.   
Miri slid down the roof onto the ground. Bean followed.

“Well, you haven’t had your period since Pendergast left.” Miri pointed out. “I’m still on laundry duty, I know you haven’t sent anything like that down. Also, the other day, your cat offered you a beer and you nearly threw up smelling it.”   
Bean blinked at her, then slid down the wall to a crouching position. “That’s… that’s crazy. I can’t be pregnant.”   
“It only needs to happen once.” Miri said, crouching next to her.   
“No, I can’t be pregnant, because Pen’s _dead_.” Bean replied. “She said Pen and Sven—”  
“The Land Viking you dropped through the hole? Ooh, that’s a personal fight.” Miri commented.   
Bean glared at her. “She said she’s Sven’s sister, and he never loses a fight.”

“Well, yeah, no one loses a fight to the death, until they do. Pendergast _also_ hasn’t lost a fight to the death.”   
“Why isn’t he _back_, Miri?” Bean pleaded. “I can’t do this alone.”   
Miri put her hands on Bean’s shoulders. “Sure you can. I don’t know why no one’s back yet, but they have to be back soon, right? Even if it’s just one straggler. No news is better than bad news. …and hey, even if the _lying Viking_ is right, and Pendergast’s somehow dead, you can handle being a single mom. You’ll still be rich, and a princess, and everything.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Bean asked. “My mom _sucks_. My dad sucks. I don’t know how to be a parent.”   
“No one does, until they’ve got a kid.” Miri replied. “…also that’s not a secret. Hey, it’s _okay_. I believe in you, and you’ve got Bunty, and the elf, your cat… King Derek’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you and your kid, and so would King Zog.”   
Bean laid her head on Miri’s shoulder. “How are you so _good_ at this?”   
“Well, after five years of figuring out what to say to make people stop bothering you, I’ve had a lot of practice.” Miri laughed. “C’mon, let’s get you back to the castle. You should probably have a nap.”

Once back at the castle, Bean didn’t take a nap. Instead, she stuck her head out the window of Sorcerio’s tower. “Hey, Sorcerio, how do I use your crystal ball without making it spark?”   
“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Odval called back.   
“I wasn’t talking to you!” Bean said.   
“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Sorcerio repeated.

Miri shrugged when Bean pulled a face at her. “I don’t know what you were expecting, Freckles. Sparking isn’t really something that usually happens with that thing.”   
“You’ve used it?” Bean asked, sitting on the windowsill.   
“Accidentally, but yeah.” Miri said.

Bean hopped off of the windowsill, and grabbed Miri’s hand. “Can you ask it if I’m going to die in childbirth?”   
“Uh… sure.” Miri said. “And then you’ll take a nap, so I can go carouse?”   
“No promises.” Bean said, pulling Miri into the crystal ball room. She then pushed her friend towards the crystal ball in the middle of the room.

Miri gently laid a hand on it. “Uh… is Bean going to die because of the baby inside of her?”   
‘NO.’ Bean read out, because Miri was illiterate.  
“Um… why not? For the future?”   
‘BECAUSE YOU ARE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME, AND MAKE SURE THAT SHE DOESN’T GET AN INFECTION. CHANGE THE SHEETS AFTER THE BIRTH, AND MAKE SURE THAT SHE HAS A REAL MIDWIFE.’   
Bean poked Miri a few times, until Miri continued, “Agh, okay. …is the baby going to be fine?”

‘DEFINE FINE’   
“Is it going to have like, three heads?”   
‘IT WILL HAVE THE NORMAL NUMBER OF HEADS, LIMBS, VISCERA. BE CAREFUL THAT IT DOESN’T TAKE AFTER ITS GRANDMOTHER.’   
Bean shuddered. “I don’t want a Dagmar baby!”   
‘IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE. BUT IT ALSO DOESN’T _NOT_ HAVE TO BE, GET IT?’ The crystal ball continued. ‘BUT YES, IT SHOULD START OUT AS A REGULAR BABY. DON’T LET DAGMAR GET IT.’

Miri stepped back from the crystal ball. “This all seems a lot more like ‘Dagmar problems’ than ‘baby problems’, and from what everyone said, Dagmar was already a problem.”   
Bean reacted to this much the way that someone _could_. “I’m going to go insane. I’m going to go live on the roof with Sorcerio and Odval and—”   
Miri grabbed Bean’s shoulders and shook her gently. “Get a grip! You’re not going to go insane, and neither is your baby! …I guess this confirms that you’re pregnant anyway, so I guess I shouldn’t shake you. Want me to tell Derek so he can announce it to the court?”

Bean shook her head. “Not yet.”   
“Is ‘yet’ going to be when you’re in labour?” Miri asked.   
Bean shrugged. “I like to keep it flexible.”   
“Uh huh, go get some sleep.” Miri said, herding her friend towards her tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, if you haven't already, go check out 'Love for Dipshits' by taffee23. It's a great Beandergast fic, and it's really really sweet to read. 
> 
> Second, the Vikings! This ties into the fracturing of England, since they should have been out of there by the 1100s. It turns out raids are fine against an army, but trying to actually take land from them is incredibly difficult. Somehow, less difficult in Disenchantment, as they are specifically Land Vikings, which means they have to come from land-- other areas of England. 
> 
> The Viking model wasn't really made for long-drawn out sieges either, especially not in this case when they'd be crushed between two armies. Technically, according to my professor, they didn't have what would have been considered an army anyway-- it was just large bands of people technically guided under the same purpose. Those people would have-- and did!-- easily cut and run if it so suited them. There's a fine line between stupid and noble. 
> 
> Honestly, the mystery of how the Vikings lasted this long is one that I haven't put too much thought into, because it requires a LOT of thought. Did Alfred the Great still exist in this timeline? (Actually that one is a yes-- they name a child after him.) Did Wessex? Mercia? The Danelaw? Basically what I've decided to go with is placing 900s-1000s England's political history on, with a few more scattered kingdoms that will come together like we've seen here.


	10. Pendergast doesn't know how to talk to girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, there is a NSFW scene, so if that's not your thing, it starts with Bean climbing into his lap, and ends with "Temptress." He muttered into her hair. "This was because I hadn't seen you for a month."

Bean was a bit unmoored, given that she wanted to drink the pain away, but whenever she’d try, she’d lose her lunch at the smell.  
“You really are a little asshole, you know that?” She asked, poking her stomach.  
As always, her baby didn’t answer.

She walked into the throne room. It had been about a month since the men of Dreamland had ridden away—and yup, no period. Miri and the crystal ball had been right.  
Derek was sitting on their father’s throne, listening to grievances and petitions. Bunty was up at the moment, the head she’d taken off of a Viking tied to her belt.

“I said I’d ask ya, yer majesty, and I asked.” Bunty said.  
“It’s entirely within the crown’s power to release prisoners to come here and give us information. It may be instrumental in another ambush.” Derek replied.  
Bunty scowled. “They should all be tied to the rack and left for the crabs to eat them, your majesty.”  
Derek pulled himself up to his meager height. “I’m sure that day will come soon, Bunty. Bring up the prisoners who will cooperate, one by one.”

Bean sat down in her chair as Bunty brought up the Viking. Her hair was disheveled, but she seemed to be doing a lot better.  
She bowed low. “Hello again, Princess.”  
“We _could_ kill this one, Derek.” Bean muttered.

Derek banged his scepter on the floor. “Enough! _I_ am the king, _I_ decide who lives and who dies! You say that your name is Magnhild Einarsdottir?”  
“If I _was_ lying, how would you verify it?” Magnhild cocked her head.  
Bunty shoulder checked her. “Quiet, you! Show some respect to the king!”  
“Are you Magnhild Einarsdottir?” Derek repeated.  
“I am Magnhild, but Einar was never a father to me.” Magnhild spat.

Derek gestured to Elfo to take notes.  
“You are the sister of the Land Viking Sven, who once tried to take over Dreamland and now is sieging Bentwood?” Derek continued.  
“He _did_ take over Dreamland, if just for an hour or so. I heard him talk about the bodies.” Magnhild said.  
Bunty made to check Magnhild again, and Bean held up a hand for Bunty to stop. “What were the plans of the Land Vikings, should they take Bentwood?”

Magnhild shrugged. “Originally, we were just planning to take Bentwood. We’d take Dreamland later. I don’t know what my brother’s planning now.”  
“Why did you attack Dreamland, then?” Derek asked.  
Magnhild sighed. “Well, we wanted to raid, plunder, pillage… cause a bit of damage, grab some people to show your army that they were foolish to leave their women behind. We actually _were_ trying to kidnap your princess, she’s very noticeable. It’d break the men of Dreamland to know that their precious princess had also been broken.”

Both Derek and Bean stiffened.  
“_Break_ me?” Bean spat. “How—_what_?!”  
“You don’t want to know that.” Magnhild said.  
Bunty jerked the chain holding Magnhild’s hands, and she toppled to the floor, her hair in her eyes.  
“What will happen since you haven’t returned?” Derek asked.

Magnhild made a show of rolling her shoulders as she got to her feet. “I assume Sven will eventually come to avenge me. _Eventually_. But he’ll have to fight his way through your army and take over Bentwood first. Believe it or not, I was meant to be on a stealth mission.”  
Derek hesitated, then looked at Bean. “How… how is the army of Dreamland? Does King Zog still live?”

“I haven’t been there in two weeks. How should I know anything about your army?” Magnhild shrugged again. “I don’t actually know that much about the movements of an army I haven’t seen in weeks, what a surprise.”  
As she finished speaking, the horn blew again. And then a second time. The army coming wasn’t identified.

“Put her back in the dungeon.” Derek ordered as Bean leapt off of her chair. “Get the archers—tell them to meet me at Baker’s Lane!”  
She pulled on her red cloak—now ripped, now bloodstained, no less of a symbol.  
She ran down to Baker’s Lane, climbed up to the roof, to find Miri waiting. “They’re riding hard.”  
“Riding? That doesn’t sound like Land Vikings.” Bean muttered.

“Yeah, I’m hoping they’re continental pricks thinking we’re all meek and ripe for the taking. That’ll show them.” Miri muttered, as other archers arrived and began to take their places on the roofs.  
“Do you have something you need to work through?” Bean asked.  
“…nah.” Miri said. “Besides, it’s not anything you could fix. It’s not like it was Sorcerio, or anything.”  
Bean was about to reply, but they could hear horses snorting, and galloping.

She held up her hand.  
They were right underneath, she peeked over the edge…  
“I don’t like this, there should have been guards on the gate.” Pendergast muttered to Zog.  
Bean’s eyes widened, and she noticed that not everyone had realized—“HOLD FIRE!”

Pendergast and Zog looked up as Bean appeared and slid down the thatch to land neatly in front of them. “Miri, run ahead and tell them it’s not an invading army.”  
“Wh… is that Mop Girl?” Zog squinted as Miri popped her head up.  
Miri saluted, then disappeared… and the other archers began appearing.

“We should move on, we’ll bottleneck here otherwise.” Pendergast said, extending a hand to Bean so that she could get on his horse.  
“Uh, yeah, that’s the idea.” She said as she climbed up.  
It was a fairly tight space, but that didn’t stop her from cuddling up against him. “I was so worried—don’t do that to me again!”

Pendergast flushed. “It wasn’t something I did _intentionally_, Tiabeanie. I know I said it’d only be a few days, but we weren’t expecting them to be that strong—”  
“I’ve spent the last two weeks thinking you were _dead_.” Bean interrupted.  
Pendergast stiffened. “No. Not dead. Why did you think that?”

“Because the Viking—Magnhild Einarsdottir—said that she saw you fighting.”  
“Well, yeah, it was a war.” Pendergast snorted.  
“She said she saw you fighting _Sven_.”  
Pendergast set his jaw. “Oh, that. I won that.”  
Bean twisted around and punched his shoulder gently. “Why were you fighting _him_?”

“Because he got mouthy.” Pendergast muttered, curling an arm around her waist. “He was talking about things he knew _nothing_ about… spies report that he told that _evil_ sister of his—”  
“To kidnap me to decrease Dreamland morale?” Bean interrupted. “Yeah, she mentioned.”  
“Not just that.” Pendergast growled. “Not just that.”

“Yeah, yeah, and to break me, again for the same reason.”  
The arm around her waist grew tighter. “Killing him was a pleasure.” Pendergast spat.  
Bean squirmed, pressing herself up tighter against him so that the arm wasn’t too tight.

Around them in the streets, people were reuniting and rejoicing.  
“Pendergast, shaddup about the rapey Viking you killed. We get it. Let people be happy, we’re back home.” Zog commented.  
“Wait, r—” Bean began.  
“It’s over, and he’s dead.” Pendergast spat. “You’re okay, that’s what matters. The sister must have gotten lost.”

“Uh, no, I captured her.” Bean said. “We were worried the Vikings would come, so I—and some of the elves—started training the women of Dreamland.”  
They passed the Viking ship’s skeleton, still in the fountain’s square. It had long since been stripped of wood planks, and sails, and whatever else the women of Dreamland had claimed.  
Pendergast stared, along with all the men who’d left.

“Turns out, surprise and repressed anger can really help you turn the tide in a battle.” Bean commented.  
“Oh.” Pendergast said.  
Bean twisted to look at him again. “What? You knew when you married me that I wasn’t a helpless, delicate flower.”  
“I mean, I knew before then.” Pendergast didn’t look away from the ship. “Delicate flowers don’t intentionally fall off of cliffs to avoid marrying princes. They _definitely_ don’t survive that.”

Bean sat up straight, proud of herself. “So how’d the siege go?”  
“Eh, Bentwood’s back under Lorenzo II—Bunny’s regent, but her husband-brother’s dead.” Zog commented. “The kid gave us the trade deal. All around, pretty good.”  
“Terrible.” Pendergast said at the same time. “I had to share a tent with Turbish and Mertz for a month.”

“Aw, poor you.” Bean said, though she was grinning.  
Pendergast squeezed her gently. “I know it must be hard for a _princess_ with a _feather bed_ to imagine, especially when she doesn’t even say _hello_ to her husband.”  
She laughed, because she could tell by his tone that he was joking. “Hey, I didn’t have you shot with arrows. Isn’t that enough?”  
He rested his head on top of hers. “Mm… I’ll consider it.”

“Get a room!” Someone called at them.  
Bean made a rude gesture at the general direction, right before they rode into the courtyard.  
“Uh… I don’t know how to help a lady down from a horse I’m also riding.” Pendergast admitted.  
Bean shot him a look, hooked a leg over the horse’s head, then hopped off.  
Derek came running out. “Father, you’re alive! Thank God!”

“Yeah, good to see ya too, Derek.” Zog said.  
“I don’t have to be king!” Derek whooped.  
Zog blinked. “Whoa, okay, I prefer when you were genuinely happy to see _me_. …Where’s Odval and Sorcerio?”  
Bean and Derek exchanged a look.

“On the roof of Sorcerio’s tower.” They said together.  
“At least you two didn’t kill ‘em. Why are they up there?” Zog asked, craning his neck to look up at the tower.  
“Agh, you know, they’re just… weird.” Bean said.  
“Odval quit because we weren’t listening to him, but he won’t come down, because… and he muttered this part, but he said something about how the basement witch can’t get him up there without revealing herself.” Derek said. “Sorcerio’s boycotting the council until Odval comes down.”  
“Jesus.” Zog muttered. “Who do you have replacing them?”  
“Elfo and Bean’s cat.”

“…well, the kingdom hasn’t burned down yet.” Zog said, before going inside. “Have whichever one is new Odval throw a party tonight for our returning men. Pendergast, knights, you’re dismissed. Everyone go rest.”  
Pendergast inclined his head as Zog left, then turned back to Bean. “Can we go somewhere more private?”  
“Sure, there’s something I need to tell you.” Bean said. “Um… how about my room?”

“_Our_ room…?” Pendergast muttered. He still followed her there. “So… how about you start, because mine is just sex. I’ve been thinking about having sex with you again for a _month_ and it’s getting kind of painful. ”  
“Uh… okay, I’m pregnant.” Bean blurted out.  
Pendergast stared at her. “How…?”  
“Remember how we had sex before the wedding?” Bean said, scratching at the back of her neck.

“That was _one time_.”  
“That’s all it takes!” Bean threw her hands up.  
Pendergast collapsed into a seating position on the couch. “…well, what are we doing until the party, then?”  
Bean sat down next to him. “What about having sex?”  
“What about the baby?”

Bean snorted. “What, climbing up and down rooftops, tackling a Viking off a roof—”  
“_What_?!”  
“—training, jumping off stuff, things like that won’t hurt the baby, but your dick will? Get over yourself.” Bean finished.  
“None of those things actually went _inside_ you, where the baby lives.” Pendergast said, gently placing a hand on her flat stomach.

She put her hand on top of his. “Pen, it’s _fine_. You’re horny, I’m horny, why not just…?”

“That’s not… it’s… you are impossible.”  
She shot him a look, but he didn’t seem angry. He just seemed to be stating a fact.  
Okay then—she could seduce _him_. “Please, Pen? _Please_?”

She leaned up against him, softly biting his neck. She climbed into his lap to get both sides.  
“Ngk…”  
Her hand slid down, in between the break in his armor so that he could ride comfortably, past the breeches. “Please? Oh, wow, you’re hard.”  
“I haven’t had any sex for a month, and you’re being… _difficult_.” He huffed.  
She grinned at him. “I haven’t had any either. C’mon, Pen. Please? It won’t hurt anything.”  
She was cut off by him kissing her. She relaxed into it.  
“Temptress…” Pendergast growled, pulling away for a moment before she pulled him back in.

Somehow, fumbling fingers quickly got rid of armor, breeches, boots, shirts, everything.

He pushed her up against the wall, one hand supporting her, the other pinning her wrists up. He bit her neck as he thrust into her. “You are a very bad woman, you know that?”  
“You’re still… ah! You’re still choosing to fuck me.”  
He turned his head and kissed her, she wrapped her legs around his waist tighter. After a few more thrusts, and she moaned and writhed against him, he released her hands. She wrapped them around his neck, pulling him closer. He moved his hand down to support her as well, and fucked her up against the wall.

She eventually broke away from the kiss. “Bed—the wall’s scratching my back.”  
“Alright, _princess_.” He teased, carrying her over to the bed—her legs still wrapped around him.  
“Ah, yes, there!” She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he slowly, slowly, far too slowly to do anything but tease her, thrust his hips. He then leaned over and raked his teeth over her earlobe.  
“Do you know,” he asked, voice husky as he dipped his mouth down to her neck and left kisses interspersed with bites as his hips continued to move, “how long a month feels when all I wanted was to be back _here_?” This was punctuated with a particularly deep thrust.

She nodded, because words were kind of hard at the moment, and if she stopped biting her lip, everyone in Dreamland would hear her.  
She did, however, roll him onto his back again, because she had enjoyed it so much last time. She rolled her hips, gratified to see that _he_ was now biting _his_ lip.  
He reached a hand up to her face, and she leaned into it—though it turned out to be a distraction for his other hand.

He gave her a shit-eating grin as his thumb circled her clit.  
“Not-not fair.” She stammered.  
“Oh?” He kept grinning.  
“I’m in charge.” She said.  
“Of course you are, _princess_.” Why was it getting _faster_?

She let him roll her back over because he was able to go _harder_ and _faster_ as her nails dug into his back. He kept nipping at her throat, before he caught her _other_ ear lobe in his teeth. “_Mine_.”  
She nodded, because words were still kind of hard (because he wouldn’t move his hand…!) “Mine…”  
That didn’t seem to be what he had been expecting, but it still seemed to please him nonetheless.

He eventually spilled in her –again—and collapsed beside her, pulling her close.

“Temptress.” He muttered into her hair. “This was because I hadn’t seen you for a month.”  
“You didn’t _have_ to fuck me.” She muttered back.  
He pulled back and looked at her. “Mm… well, you’re not bleeding, so you were probably right about it not hurting the baby. …sorry.”  
She nestled back up against him. Post-coital Pendergast was a lot more malleable. “Mm… shush, I’m sleepy and you’re warm.”

He chuckled. “Yes, princess.”  
“Don’t call me that, I’m Bean. You called me Bean after the wedding.”  
“Okay… Bean.”  
She made a sound of approval and snuggled up against him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest.

“So… when I said I love you after our wedding… at the time I was kind of saying it back because that’s what people say, you know?” Bean kept her eyes on her hand. She still felt him stiffen around her.  
“Let me finish, Pen. I… you make me feel comfortable. And happy. Not like fireworks bursting out, but… the kind of happy you could be forever. It makes me feel warm inside, knowing you’ve got my back through stuff. And I don’t know when, or how it happened, but… I do. I think I love you.”

“Bean, look at me.”  
She finally looked up at his face. He cupped her chin with his free hand. “I think I love you too.”  
She grinned. “Is this our thing now?”  
“Sure.” He grinned back.

Her fingers drifted to his shoulder, and she felt scar tissue. He kept watching her.  
“What’s this from?” She asked.  
Pendergast glanced at it. “Arrow glanced off of me in the crusades. Didn’t go too deep.”  
“And this?” Her fingers went back down his chest, to a scar on his waist that looked like a starburst.  
Pendergast shrugged. “Spear broke against my shield, the splinters kept going and were small enough to get through chainmail. Most of these are from the Crusades, Bean.”

“Huh. Do you have any stories behind them? You don’t talk about the Crusades often.”  
“What’s there to say that your father hasn’t said already?” Pendergast asked.  
Bean shifted, and her leg brushed up against his. She felt scar tissue there as well.

“How did you not lose your leg if you got injured in the Lemon Crusades?” She asked, settling in.  
Pendergast was silent for a minute before he said, “That wasn’t in the Lemon Crusades. That was… I broke my leg when I was seven.”  
“Oh.” Bean said, before pulling up her leg to his waist.

“What…?”  
“When I was twelve, I stole a horse from the stable. I wanted to prove I could ride just as well as Derek. I took… you know that big, black one you sometimes ride?”  
Pendergast’s eye widened. “Oh _no_…”

Bean nodded. “Oh yeah. I didn’t know anything about tack or saddling, so I opened the stable door, opened the pen door, and then I climbed up and jumped onto its back.”  
Pendergast visibly cringed.  
“I made it to the fountain before he bucked me off.” Bean continued, before tapping her knee. “Blood was _everywhere_. Sorcerio wanted to amputate, but I was crying so hard already that my Dad just sort of had them bandage it up. It healed pretty well, feels weird sometimes, but I still have the scar.”

“I can see that.” Pendergast said, pulling down the blanket to reveal a white scar running down her thigh to her knee. It looked a lot like his starburst scar. “How’d you hurt your thigh?”  
“Scraped it on the fountain.” Bean replied casually. “I was _so mad_ when you got here and they let you ride the horse.”  
“A warhorse being given to a man about to go off to war, what a tragedy.” Pendergast deadpanned.

Bean laughed. “Shut up, I was fourteen. I’ve heard you say that horse is a bastard anyway.”  
“He _is_ a bastard, in every sense of the word. He’s always looking to cause trouble.” Pendergast ran a hand through her hair. “Give him an inch, and he’ll take a mile… maybe that’s why…” He suddenly trailed off.  
“Go on.” Bean said. “You were about to compare me to the horse, weren’t you?”  
“Look at the time, we should probably get ready…” Pendergast said, which was as good as a yes.

Bean laughed. “_Wow_. Well, which one of us do you prefer to ride?”  
“_Bean_.” Pendergast said, aghast. “…you. Obviously.”  
She laughed again. “Yeah, I thought you might. For what it’s worth, me too.”  
Pendergast flushed. “Come on, let’s get ready. For real.”

He got out of bed, and offered her a hand. With a smirk, she pulled.  
“Bean.” He said, exasperated. He pulled as well, stronger than she was expecting. She was pulled into his arms.  
“Come on.” He said, ignoring her flushed smile. “They’re expecting us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about camp followers. (This is kind of NSFW)
> 
> Pendergast didn't get laid throughout that month for lack of opportunity, but we'll get to that soon enough. In this fic, he almost certainly has a type, a type that plays into several things; one, he's very proud, two, he likes focusing on Bean more than himself in general, kind of because he has low self-esteem, kind of because he likes to in general, and kind of because he is just going in the opposite direction of the marriages he's seen. These two things are often in combat with each other, EXCEPT... well, if your wife's royalty, well then it's good to place her above yourself, isn't it? This ties into the next point, actually ABOUT the followers. 
> 
> He knows what sex is. Obviously, but beyond general cultural osmosis, what else is there? There's also the fact that he spent at least two years on campaign. Soldiers like dirty songs almost as much as sailors do, but you know what soldiers can have the sailors can't?  
Camp followers. 
> 
> These were women who moved with the army, usually because their husband or family was in the army. They cooked, they cleaned, and they were nurses (as much as they could be with no formal training). ...in fact, they were so synonymous with camp followers that Florence Nightingale had to completely reinvent her uniform to be as ugly as possible. The point is that they also totally had sex with the army. A lot. To the point where the word was basically a synonym for whore. For those of you who read my comments, and were struck with fear that Pendergast took up with a camp follower while in Bentwood... 
> 
> No. They made passes at him, but he didn't necessarily register them. He knows of their existence, and he's HEARD enough before to get a basic idea-- he also has standards, and expectations for himself.  
Why is any of this relevant, besides me trying to poke holes in fanfiction that no one wanted? Well, it kind of ties into my characterization of him. He very much believes in traditional values, which for Dreamland means that the man is the head of the house and has dominion over his wife. Pendergast... he wouldn't SAY that he doesn't want that, but he did find the one woman in all of Dreamland that no one can expect him to boss around for multiple reasons. He does get overprotective, and he does lean in a bit to what he THINKS he should be doing (and what she should be doing, but that's... that's for later) but ultimately, he did choose her for a reason. Bean says he knew she wasn't a delicate flower when he married her, but that's also kind of the reason WHY he likes her.


	11. Y'all didn't react to the smut so have some eldritch horror

Some things returned to normal. Some didn’t—Bunty kept wearing the head on her belt, and everyone was too scared to tell her not to. The amount of husbands that Pendergast was called to investigate who had ‘tripped and fallen on their own knives’ grew exponentially. Bean _and_ Derek seemed to have a more active interest in politics—to the extent where Derek would come in and _take notes_, and Bean’s weird cat would report back to her. No matter if or how they tried to keep the weird cat out, he’d report back to her. He began to suspect that Derek was helping the cat.

Bean and Derek would also team up on their father, which is how a burned down home was rebuilt as a woman’s shelter (good, less ‘falling on knives’ then) and women started joining his guard team (originally bad, he only had time to train _one_ woman and that was firmly on hold until she had the baby). He didn’t actually mind too much once he realized that they were actually decent fighters, and Zog had pointed out that didn’t he need the manpower? Dreamland couldn’t really spare any since they’d lost so many men in the siege of Bentwood. Bean had been grinning as Zog said that, Pendergast would have thought it was her idea if it hadn’t been worded so well. Bean spoke from the heart, she wasn’t… _politically minded_. …that was worded badly. Pendergast loved her, but practiced eloquence was not her strong suit.

She and Derek were sitting in on another court session. Pendergast wasn’t _hovering_… but he was standing next to Bean, keeping an eye on any potential threats. More accurately, he was behind her and Zog, with her in front of his right side. It wasn’t about keeping an eye on her—he only had the one, and that was a full time job—but it was about _protecting_ her.

Pendergast had been half-listening most of the time, but from what he could tell Bean and Derek weren’t really listening either.   
Stan made his way to the front, which _was_ interesting. “Greetings, yer majesty.”   
“Hi, Stan.” Zog said. “What’s up?”

“Well, what’re we doin’ about the Vikings in my dungeon? They’re taking up a lot of room.” Stan said. “Particularly the lady—she has to have a cell to her own after she got… a bit bitey.”   
“Magnhild Einarsdottir?” Derek said.   
“Yeah, that’s her. She says she wants to see ‘the boy-king’ or the white-haired princess, says she gave them information for free, and she wants better conditions.”

“What kind of conditions?” Bean asked.   
Stan looked a bit embarrassed. “She wants to go free.”   
“What kinda information did she give you guys?” Zog asked.   
Bean leaned back in her chair. “Not much. She kept saying anything she’d have was outdated, so it wouldn’t help anyway.”   
“Eh, bring her in anyway.” Zog said. “What’s the worst she can do?”   
Stan acquiesced.

Magnhild looked much the same as last time, if a bit dirtier. Her pale eyes roamed the room. “Ah, Princess… I see your one-eyed knight survived. No… no worse for wear.”   
For the first time, she seemed off her footing. “No matter. Sven will come for me. You’ll see.”   
“He’s dead.” Pendergast spat. “I cut his head off myself.”

Magnhild shook her head. “No, no, you’re lying. Sven is strong. Sven always comes for me. It wasn’t him.”   
“Always? How often does this kind of thing happen to you?” Bean asked.   
Magnhild glared at her. “Don’t pretend you care. You’re the one who put me in chains! You wouldn’t take your knight’s knife back and let me bleed out! No, you’re so concerned with being _nice_, you don’t even realize the wolf’s in your bed!”

Pendergast visibly tensed.   
“Ah, Stan, I thought we stopped having crazy ladies in the dungeon.” Zog said. “Either we get a bigger dungeon, or get rid of the crazy ladies.”   
“She wasn’t always like this.” Derek pointed out. “Also, she’s kind of scary.”   
“Oh, come now.” Magnhild crooned. “Where would I go? What would I do to your princess, now that her knight is here? What would I do to her anyway—she nearly killed me on her own.”

“Your Majesty, I _deeply_ recommend that you execute her.” Pendergast spat. “She is a threat to _everyone_ in the castle, particularly the royal family.”   
Magnhild inclined her head. “You honor me. What did she say your name was, again…? Pen? And then what would I do? My brother is dead—I’m not going back to Einar’s house without Sven to protect me.”   
“My _name_ is Pendergast.”

“Don’t let her get inside your head.” Bean says. “She’s trickier than Dagmar—actually, yeah, if she and Dagmar met up, there’d be trouble.”   
“Hmm… except for the part where I owe your princess my life.” Magnhild said, before averting her eyes, licking her lips. “Who’s Dagmar, actually? I haven’t met any other women in the dungeon, much less ones from my homeland.”

“Dagmar’s my mother, and she’s not from your homeland, she’s from Maru.” Bean huffed.   
“Ah.” Magnhild nodded. “I don’t much care for mothers—mine died bringing me into the world, and Einar resented me for it. When he was the one who got her pregnant in the first place. She couldn’t protect me from Einar, she brought me into a world I didn’t want to be in to begin with…” She shrugged, eyes flickering between Pendergast and Bean. Both had tensed at Magnhild saying that her mother had died in childbirth, and Pendergast had put his hand on Bean’s shoulder when Magnhild laid blame for that on her father’s shoulders.

“Ah…” Magnhild said. “I should have guessed that you two were fucking from how she tried to kill me after I said the knight was dead.”   
“Yeah, that’s kind of old news.” Stan muttered to her.   
“I’m not seeing a reason to let you live.” Zog admitted. “You’re still kinda screwy. In fact, you’re really screwy.”   
Magnhild shrugged. “What can I offer? Your knight doesn’t trust me around any of you, especially not your princess. I wonder though, who’s gonna protect her if he…? No, it’ll never happen. A strong man has _never_ turned his hand on his lover.”   
“Why you little…” Pendergast growled.

It was drowned out by Bean scoffing, “I don’t need Pendergast to protect me—I can do fine on my own. I _have_ done fine on my own—that’s why you were in the dungeon. Why are you trying to piss Pen off so much, anyway?”   
“What, he can’t take a bit of needling from _me_? Bound, filthy, alone and friendless in a foreign land?” Magnhild shrugged. “What threat am I? Release me, and I’ll never bother you again.”

“What _threat_ are you?! Sire, she tried to kill your daughter!” Pendergast said, aghast. “I can’t be the only one bothered by that!”   
Magnhild clicked her tongue. “That’s a lie, knight. You know as well as I do that I was never going to _kill_ your princess…”   
“Okay, one, why are we letting the crazy lady talk? Two, Pendergast, take a walk. Bean’s fine, the Viking’s dead, you’re no use to anyone half rabid yourself. You’re more angry than Bean is—you’re letting her get to you. Crazy lady, you have a minute to tell me why I shouldn’t have you drowned. You’re entertaining, but you also keep threatening my daughter and trying to sow discord.”

Pendergast obediently stomped out. Magnhild sighed, exasperated. “I’m not threatening her _anymore_! I’m acknowledging that I _did_. There’s nothing I can offer you—I can’t offer you my sword, your daughter took it. I can’t offer you men, because you could break them yourselves. I can’t offer you your safety in exchange for me, because my brother is… faking his death, right now.”   
“This is just kind of sad.” Derek commented.   
“Agreed, Stan, get her prepped for execution.” Zog said.

Bean walked out while Magnhild was being dragged away. Pendergast was outside on the castle wall, looking at the sea. Bean climbed up next to him, then sat on one of the castle fortifications. “Hey, Pen.”   
“Hey.”   
“So… why does she make you so mad?” Bean asked.

“She reminds me of her brother.” Pendergast finally said. “More… eloquent, more unhinged than opportunistic, but still very similar.”   
Bean sighed. “I didn’t _actually_ sleep with Sven, you know. You don’t have to protect my honor.”   
Pendergast laughed. “I’ve actually been the biggest dent in your honor. I know you didn’t sleep with him.”

“So if it’s not a ‘I got there first’ thing, why…?” Bean asked.   
Pendergast frowned at her. “Do you think so little of me? It’s not _that_, I don’t care about that.”   
She shrugged. “Well, you killed him. It’s over.”

Pendergast shook his head. “It’s not over as long as she lives. As long as she reminds me… Bean, I almost lost that fight. You know why I didn’t? Because Turbish fired wildly, and it hit him in the arm. It distracted him long enough for me to get out from under his foot, flip him over, and stab him in the neck.”   
“But you didn’t lose.” Bean pointed out.   
“But I _could_ have!” Pendergast said. “I could have _died_ outside Bentwood! You would have been widowed, you-you would have had to deal with the pregnancy—the baby!—by yourself! And that _Viking_ would have been able to try and take Dreamland, to try and take _you_.”

“But you _didn’t_.” Bean repeated. “There’s a lot of stuff with ‘what ifs’. _I_ could have lost fighting her.”   
“Go on.”   
“No, that’s it. The point is, there’s a lot of stuff that _could_ have happened, but there’s only some stuff that _did_. Get it?” Bean said.   
“You don’t get how close we came to losing everything, don’t you?”

Bean shrugged, leaning back on her chosen seat. “I could have died so many times before now. Like when I fell off of that cliff on purpose, or when my mom tried to screw a crown to my head, or when I had to go to Hell to get Elfo back—”   
“_What_?” Pendergast asked.   
“Yeah, it was a whole thing.” Bean said. “_But_, even as I was hurtling towards the rivers of lava, I still didn’t _die_ overall. And we’ve got more stuff to focus on here and now—like the fact that her mom died in childbirth.”

“Bean, it won’t happen to you.” Pendergast sighed.   
Bean threw her hands in the air. “You’re _so_ obsessed with protecting me, but you can’t protect me from myself! What are you going to do if I _do_ die, Pen?! Because if you pull a Zog, and ignore our kid, I’ll come back and haunt you!”   
“Wouldn’t that be motivation for me to be a prick?” He asked.   
She glared at him, and punched him gently in the shoulder. “Don’t be a dick, Pen.”

He smiled. “Alright, alright. I’m not going to trust the Viking, though. And I can’t promise that if Stan doesn’t kill her, I won’t.”   
“Go ahead.” Bean shrugged.   
He gathered her into his arms. “What did she mean about you stabbing her with my knife?”

“Oh, remember how you told me how I should keep a knife in my boot? And how I never gave you your knife back?” She shrugged again.   
“You’re never going to give it back now, are you?” Pendergast said, though she could hear the smile in his voice.   
“…nah.”   
“Keep it with my blessing, then. I’d prefer for you to have a bit of me protecting you.”   
“Dork.” She muttered, though he could hear the smile as well.   
“_Your_ dork, princess.”

This didn’t mean that he stopped watching her when he was able, but he did relax a bit knowing she had more than the elf and weird cat to protect her. To be fair, it was his job to protect the elf now, seeing as Odval and Sorcerio still refused to come down. Occasionally, Pendergast wondered what they’d do in the winter months, but it wasn’t really his concern. He knew Mop Girl got them food, and they seemed to be doing alright, so…?

What Pendergast didn’t know was several things; one, Odval was working on an escape plan for himself and Sorcerio. It mostly involved a lot of rope. Two, the day before Magnhild was scheduled to die, Bean made a trip down to the dungeon.

Elfo and Luci were running interference with Pendergast, and no one else really cared about Magnhild to the same extent.   
“All yours, princess.” Stan said. “Ah, you did some of your best work down here. Torturing that one man through indecisiveness? _Inspired_.”   
Bean laughed. “Thanks, Stan.”

“Well, I’ll leave you two be. Don’t torture her too hard.” Stan winked.   
He disappeared, and Magnhild raised her head. “Well, if it isn’t the pretty princess. Here to complain about the one-eyed knight?”   
“What is your deal with Pendergast?” Bean asked.   
Magnhild suddenly lunged for the bars. Bean stepped back.

Magnhild smiled grimly. “Not so brave now, hmm? I hate your Pen because he killed my older brother, didn’t he? Sven was my best friend, my protector. I am nothing without him, and if I hadn’t been here, I could have killed the knight and saved my brother as he saved me.” Magnhild gave a hiccupping sob, retreating back into the cell proper. “He wouldn’t let me come to the raid on Dreamland, always trying to protect me… any man that wanted me had to go through Sven, because he had to make sure that the man was good enough… I don’t expect you to understand, you’re an older sister, not a younger one.”

“…okay. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”   
“The knight spilled his seed in you and you want to get rid of the problem before your father finds out—or your husband?” Magnhild guessed, glancing at Bean’s ring.   
“What? Wait, you can do that?” Bean asked.   
Magnhild shrugged. “Some women can. I’m not one of them, especially not now. Ask a midwife. …but the knight did get you pregnant, though. Dear, dear. What will your lord husband say?”

“Pendergast _is_ my husband.” Bean said.   
Magnhild blinked owlishly. “Oh.”   
“And he already knows I’m pregnant.”   
“It’d be a bit odd if it disappeared then.” Magnhild mused. “So, why are you here, princess? We’re not friends. Your _husband_ doesn’t like me.”

Bean bit her lip. “How did your mother die?”   
Magnhild stared at her with almost practiced disinterest. “Childbirth, I told you.”   
“No, I mean… what killed her, specifically?” Bean asked a bit nervously. “How do I not…?”   
Magnhild looked at her in an almost pitying way. “Oh, princess. You can’t stop it if that’s how you’re meant to die. My mother would have died if I was a boy, if I was smaller, if I was two babies instead of one, just as she _didn’t_ die bearing Sven.”

“So you think you were meant to die on the block tomorrow?” Bean challenged.   
Magnhild’s eyes slid over her like she wasn’t there. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see, won’t we? Maybe your knight will get impatient and slip in here tonight, before stabbing me in the throat. Maybe your father will have a bolt of mercy strike him, and I’ll be sent back down here.”   
Bean resisted the urge to look behind her—what was Magnhild looking at? “That’s not going to happen. My dad’s not the merciful type.”

“You are.” Magnhild’s eyes focused back on her. “You could save me if you wanted to.”   
“I…” Bean swallowed. “I don’t know.”   
Magnhild shrugged. “Alright. If saving me is conditional on coming back down here, or becoming a bedwarmer, I don’t want to be saved.”   
“A… bed…?” Bean wrinkled her nose.

Magnhild chuckled. “What an innocent little princess you are. That’s what conquerors _do_ with women they capture. That’s what I expected—even if it’s not what I got—and that’s what would have happened to you had I won the fight.”   
“But I would have said no. I would have fought—”   
Magnhild rolled her eyes. “Princess, my brother was well aware of your tricks. We all were well aware of your _spirit_, he told anyone who would listen. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just a step stone to being conquered completely.”

“I wouldn’t have married him.” Bean spat.   
“Princess, you’re not _listening_. I never mentioned marriage, a man could never treat his wife like that.” Magnhild wrinkled her nose as well. “Your knight knows what would have happened to you, do I really have to spell it out?”   
“No, I’m here to talk about your mother anyway.” Bean replied.   
“Tough, I don’t know anything about that.” Magnhild shifted her eyes away again.

“You’re lying.”   
“What if I am? You’ve never killed your mother, princess.”   
Bean grabbed the bars and leaned in close. “I once accidentally turned my mother to stone for about fifteen years.”   
Magnhild looked vaguely surprised, then she laughed. “I suppose that counts, in its own way. I’d love to hear that story.”

“We’re not here to trade stories. How do I not die?!” Bean hissed.   
Magnhild sighed. “Here’s what I know. My mother had me later in life, she thought her monthly had stopped, but it was just me. By the time they realized, I was half out. I was a winter baby, I came too fast and while my father ventured out into the snows to get the midwife, it was just her and Sven, and then it was just Sven and me. Sven didn’t talk about it much, I get the sense it was about as much his fault as mine. She bled out in minutes. It wasn’t a childbed fever, it wasn’t that they had to cut her open to get me out. You, princess? You’re young, you’re definitely strong, you’ll be _fine_.”

Her gaze shifted off of Bean again.   
“What are you looking at?” Bean hissed.   
“Do you think you’re the only one to come here and ask me questions?” Magnhild asked. “The witch is coming back. She’s come to ask me if I will join her service, and again I will say no, and again she will smile like she knows better.”   
The hairs on the back of Bean’s neck stood up.

“Witch is such a pejorative term.” A silky voice called. “I prefer ‘queen’.”   
Magnhild backed up as much as she could in her cell. “I haven’t read many tales, but I know princesses don’t do well against witches. Run.”   
Bean stood, and turned. “I’m not afraid of you, Dagmar.”

Dagmar stepped into the torchlight, smiling. “I believe it. Daughters shouldn’t fear their mothers.”   
“What are you doing here?” Bean growled.   
“She already told you—I’m trying to find loyal supporters to take back Dreamland.”   
“Dreamland would _never_ accept you as queen!”

Dagmar laughed. “No no no, not for _me_. For you. All I ever wanted was to give you the world. Isn’t that all any mother wants?” She pointedly glanced towards Bean’s abdomen.  
“You didn’t help when Dreamland was under attack.” Bean gestured to Magnhild, whose eyes were rapidly flickering between mother and daughter.   
“I gave you a chance to prove yourself to your power base. You’re adored, just as you always should have been.”

“What?!” Bean spat.   
Dagmar shrugged. “I would have stepped in if the shield maiden had defeated you, but it was never going to get that far, was it? I’m a better mother than you give me credit for, and a better grandmother.”   
“How long were you listening?” Bean demanded.

“A while.”   
Bean scoffed. “Okay, so you eavesdrop, but that doesn’t mean you could ever protect me! You tried to screw a crown to my head! What’s to stop me from screaming for Pendergast right now, and having you executed alongside Magnhild?”   
“Oh, we all know your lover doesn’t know you’re down here, he’d disapprove, wouldn’t he?” Dagmar said. “But since you want a show of power…”

“No no no no no no…” Magnhild began to chant, pressing herself up against the wall as much as she could. The other prisoners began to do the same.   
And then;

_And then; _

The previously large, empty room, was full of eyes. Empty, dark eyes, of things that looked somewhat like elves, but also not quite like elves at all. Empty dark eyes that turned to Bean expectantly, empty dark eyes that somehow reflected Dagmar’s smile. Bean backed up until she hit the bars of Magnhild’s cell.   
“I could take you with me now.” Dagmar said quietly. Bean heard her easily, even if her voice was soft it seemed to carry and echo around the room. “I could take you down to the bottom of the castle, where no one would ever find you. I could put the crown on you, and we would take Dreamland together. For you, for your child, for our legacy.”

She snapped her fingers, and Bean shut her eyes, wincing. Warily, she opened them again. The room was empty of all of those creatures.   
“But I won’t. Not yet. You’ll come to me.” Dagmar vowed, before she herself melted into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not much to say about this one. 
> 
> Magnhild is very... unhelpful, but I still like her enough that if for whatever godforsaken reason I would ever write a sequel, she'd probably be in it. She was straight up lying about seeing Dagmar, though. She wasn't lying about anything else, she wouldn't have bothered Bean if freed. (She's not actually a very good liar.) She likes Bean-- she does not like Pendergast at all. She also prides herself on being very intuitive, but Bean and Pendergast's relationship kind of threw her for a loop, given what she knows of the treatment of women in Dreamland/Bentwood, etc. 
> 
> Let's be real here; the Vikings definitely treated women differently. When Magnhild says no, a husband couldn't treat his wife that way, that is specifically given her own culture. Being treated that way forever was part of why Bean was terrified of marriage. Viking women had the ability to have clean divorces, go to war (Magnhild is a shieldmaiden) and had a lot more control of their lives and households than other women of Medieval Europe.


	12. I don't like Sky Gunderson.

Pendergast relaxed a bit more after the Vikings were executed, even though he could tell that something was bothering Bean. However, he was good about not pushing her.

Elfo and Luci weren’t.  
“So, what’s been eating you?” Luci asked, pushing a mug of beer in front of Bean.  
She held her breath, pushing it away. “Do you have any small ale?”  
“That’s a kid drink. Elfo drinks that.” Luci scoffed, but he ran to get it for her anyway.

“You’ve seemed kind of weird lately, Bean. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But you should. You should tell us, your friends who have risked everything for you.” Elfo commented.  
“Alright, alright.” Bean said, pulling them both close as Luci returned. “I’m pregnant.”  
“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” Elfo squawked.

Everyone turned to look at them.  
“Pendergast and I were keeping it quiet, but yeah.” Bean admitted.  
“Yeah, that explains a lot.” Luci said. “What, was it from your wedding eve?”  
Bean flushed. “Yeah, probably.”

“Wh… that was months ago!” Elfo said, looking down at her stomach.  
Bean curled her left arm around it protectively, and yes, if someone squinted, they could see a small bump forming behind her baggy tunic. “Well, yeah, that’s how babies work, Elfo.”

Luci slid her the new mug of small ale. “Here, this is fermented, but not distilled. No hops, either. Better taste, better for the baby, probably better for you.”  
“Thanks, Luci.”

“Eh, no problem. Now, spill, the kingdom doesn’t have a licensed therapist. As a bartender, I’m the next best thing.” Luci said.  
“I saw Dagmar.” Bean admitted. “She was in the dungeon, trying to recruit the Vikings.”  
“The Vikings are gone now, though. We went to the execution—Pendergast kept looking like he was going to freak out until the lady Viking was gone.” Elfo said.

Luci watched Bean. “Yeah, that was a couple weeks ago.”  
“She summoned these little… creatures. They had dead eyes—like sharks? Have you guys ever seen sharks?”  
“Not that close.” Elfo said, as Luci said, “Of course.”  
Bean shrugged. “The Vikings were all screaming, and Dagmar said she’d take me away… but then she said it was my choice, and I’d eventually come to her.”

“Well, it’s simple, don’t go to her. You said the Vikings didn’t, why should you?” Luci asked, cleaning a shot glass with his (new) apron.  
Bean shivered. “It seemed like… like she knew something I didn’t. She’s worrying.”  
“So why not tell Pendergast?” Elfo asked.  
Bean threw her hands in the air. “Because he wouldn’t let me take a piss without an armed escort if I told him! He would keep his sword on in bed! He was already overprotective when the Viking was dead and his _sister_ was in jail, imagine what he’d do if I told him I saw my crazy mom?”

“Mm, trust is important for a relationship.” Luci commented. “For example, I trusted that Elfo would be a dweeb, and I was right.”  
“Aw, buddy, someone needs a punishment hug.” Elfo said.  
Luci leapt away from him, scrambling around to Bean’s other side. “_No_.”

Elfo opened his arms. “C’mon, you need a hug.”  
“_No_oooo.” Luci said, as Elfo folded the demon into his arms. “Agh, _fine_.”  
“Since when did you guys become such good friends?” Bean wondered.  
“Well, you were so busy with Pendergast…” Elfo trailed off, narrowing his eyes.

“Dude, don’t start shit.” Luci said. “At least not with Bean—I don’t want to lose my best customer. Besides, I thought we were past the bitterness—Bitter Elfo doesn’t get drinks.”  
“Fine.” Elfo said, Luci still cradled in his arms.  
“You guys kind of look like Derek and his teddy bear.” Bean commented, amused.  
“Oh, it’s not like that _at all_.” Luci said, though he refused to explain further.

Bean was about to say something, when a cry went up outside. “Dragon! Dragon!”  
_Luci’s Inferno_ was quickly emptied.  
_Something_ flew over Elf Alley, trailing sparks.  
“Bean, we have to get to the castle!” Kissy called, running across the street to join them. “We need you Dreamlanders to help us!”

“Of course, Kissy!” Bean said. “Uh, how—”  
“Just let me ride on your shoulders! My father sent me because it would be faster!” Kissy huffed.  
“Right, right, right.” Bean said, picking up Kissy and running.

Derek was once again sitting by as Zog was holding court, with Pendergast standing nearby.  
Bean burst in, carrying Kissy, Elfo and Luci trailing behind. “Dad! Dad, there’s a dragon burning Elf Alley!”  
She put Kissy down, and Kissy curtsied. “King Zog, on behalf of my father, King Rulo, we desperately ask for your help defending Elf Alley.”

Derek began to fidget, and Zog said, “Sure, sure. Elfo, go get the fire brigade request forms. Pendergast, go take down that dragon, I don’t want this spreading to the castle.”  
“No!” Derek screamed.  
Everyone turned to look at him.

“Bean, do you remember my dream from months ago?” Derek said. “With the dragon, and the man…?”  
“Aw, Derek, that’s not going to happen.” Bean said, waving Pendergast past her.  
“It’s happening _now_.” Derek pointed out. “Not exactly the same, but…! Bean, I don’t want to _burn_ you to death!”  
“Derek, Odval disappeared. Pendergast isn’t going to try and struggle with me.” Bean pointed out patiently. “It’s just different enough. You’ll be okay, Dad’ll be okay, I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want to be king. I don’t want you to die.” Derek whispered.  
Bean hugged him. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Hey, why don’t you go help out with putting out the fires, okay?”  
“What are you going to do?” Luci asked.  
“I’m going to help take down the dragon.” Bean said, marching into the courtyard.

“No, no, no. Absolutely not.” Pendergast said, seeing her as he was putting his saddle on.  
“Why not?” Bean huffed.  
“You’re _pregnant_!” Pendergast gestured to her stomach.  
“And I’m a pretty good shot.” Bean shot back.

“I don’t have time for this. Mop Girl! Make sure she doesn’t leave the castle grounds!” Pendergast yelled over to Miri.  
“Sure, milord.” Miri called back pleasantly.  
Pendergast looked at Bean, who stuck her tongue out, then he rode off.

“So, want me to get a horse ready?” Miri asked.  
“You read my mind. Thanks, Miri.” Bean said.  
“No problem, just don’t die out there, or Pendergast’ll kill me. And then my ghost will strangle your ghost.” Miri replied.

Bean laughed. A few minutes later, she galloped out of Dreamland in her red cloak, following the knights.  
“Turbish, tell me my _pregnant_ wife isn’t following us to fight a dragon.” Pendergast ground out.  
“Okay.” Turbish said. “She’s not following us.”  
“She’s actually headed up the mountain.” Mertz broke in.

“God tests me every day.” Pendergast muttered, before looking up. “Fire!”  
There was a series of _thunks_ as arrows hit it.  
“Fire!” Pendergast called again.

And then, like an echo from a far-off memory, the dragon began to fall, and he saw the crimson cloak flapping in the wind as Bean smirked down at him, before disappearing.  
_I need to get to her_, the memory whispered. _Before she gets to it, because there’s danger there, and I can’t lose her_.  
“Turbish, Mertz, follow the dragon!” He ordered, urging his own horse towards the mountain, towards Bean.

He caught her heading towards the crash site.  
“You do realize I told you to stay at the castle not just for _your_ safety, but for the baby’s?” He commented, seeing her crimson cloak.  
She froze, her horse still moving forward. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

He knew that—how did he know that? He shook the thoughts away. “Sorry to disappoint you, Tiabeanie. Should I come back later when it’s more _convenient_?”  
She glared at him, pulling back her hood. “I can shoot well—you _know_ I can! I don’t need you to protect me!”  
“I know you don’t _need_ me to, but I _want_ to!” Pendergast threw his hands up in the air. “Especially when you’re in a delicate situation—it’s not just you that this could affect!”

“The baby, the baby, that’s all you talk about! I _know_ I’m pregnant! I’m not made of _glass_! I’m _fine_, Pen!”  
He was about to retort, when they reached the crash site.  
“This isn’t a dragon…” Bean muttered.  
A door—why was there a door? The door was kicked open, and a man exited, coughing and sputtering.  
Pendergast drew his sword. “Hands up, stranger.”

The man grimaced. “Can you—” He broke into another coughing fit.  
Pendergast was unimpressed. Everything about this man screamed danger. “Do you want to search his… dragon… or tie him up?” He asked Bean.  
“So _now_ you let me help?” Bean asked.

Pendergast pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t _have_ to.”  
“No, no, I’m gonna help. …I’ll tie him up.”  
Pendergast nodded and handed her rope from his saddlebag. “Feet, hands, gag him if need be.”  
“I’m not that big a threat.” The man smiled.  
Pendergast dismounted and walked past him, aiming a kick for the man’s knees. “You forgot to keep coughing. Try to make it a bit more believable, next time.”  
There wasn’t much evidence to take—he grabbed a bag, a book that had fallen onto the chair in the crash, then came back out. Bean had tied him up, but she hadn’t gagged him.

“It was all an innocent mistake.” The man wheedled. “I didn’t even know that my ship had been sparking.”  
“I’ll trade you.” Pendergast said, throwing the book and bag to the ground at Bean’s feet, then grabbed the man by the shirt, hoisting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He deposited the man on the back of his horse, then turned back to Bean, who was holding the book and bag to her, looking flushed. Pendergast was about to smirk, before he realized that he was still mad at her. …kind of. You can’t be mad at the ocean for making waves.

Instead, he made sure that the troublemaker wouldn’t kick himself off, or bother the horse too much, then swung up.  
Bean followed, as they ran into Turbish and Mertz, who he then sent on to prepare a cell or help with the fires or _something._ That felt off too, but thankfully lessened.

“You knew when you married me I wasn’t a delicate flower. You _said_ you knew.” Bean finally said.  
“It’s not about _you_, it’s about the baby! What if… what if this man had been a dangerous, knife-wielding maniac?” Pendergast pointed to the man behind him for emphasis. “I told you I’ve been thinking about what would happen to you if I died—do you ever think about how _your_ death would affect _me_?”   
  
Her mouth was a thin line, besides her teeth. “I can handle myself, Pen!”  
“I _know_ that! I can handle myself too, but that’s not the point! The point is, you are my _world_! I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you—what your father would do, your elf, your cat, your brother—anyone! _Please_, Bean, I just need to know you’re okay.” He pleaded.  
“So let me come with you on stuff like this!” She huffed.

“If you want my advice…” the guy on the back of Pendergast’s horse said.  
“No!” They both shouted at him.  
“I can’t watch both of our backs at the same time!” Pendergast continued. “But… I can’t stop you, can I?”  
She glared at him. “You can _try_.”  
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Just… please, until the baby’s weaned?”  
“Born.” Bean corrected.  
“Able to support its own head.”

“I’ll go _crazy_.” Bean whined.  
“With one on one training?” Pendergast tried. “And… I could stop trying to block you getting into council meetings?”  
“…fine.” Bean said. “…um, Pen? Thanks for not being a dick.”  
“It’s nothing—after all, I think I love you.” He replied, grinning at her.  
Her face lit up. “Dork. I love you too.”

“I’m going to be sick.” The guy said on the back of Pendergast’s horse.  
“Then be sick over the side of the horse.” Pendergast huffed.  
“I promise, I’m not a threat—you saw my ship, it’s not a dragon.”

“You _did_ set fire to Elf Alley though.” Bean pointed out.  
“That was an accident, I _told_ you!” The guy said.  
Bean looked somewhat swayed. “It’s okay, you’ll be able to make your case against the king. You’ll have a fair trial, _right_ Pen?”  
Pendergast chuckled. “A fair trial… you’re so funny, Bean.”

Bean glared at him. “He could have information—that ship of his, how did he build that? It _flew_, Pen.”  
“Well, I _could_ try to explain it, but I’d need full use of my hands and a chalkboard. Tell me, how much do either of you know about engineering?” The man asked.  
“_Clearly_ it’s just magic!” Pendergast pointed out as they rode into Dreamland.

“No, it’s _science_.” The man bit back.  
“That’s just a different word for magic.” Bean pointed out.  
Pendergast nodded.  
The man blinked owlishly. “I _guess_.”  
And then they were back in the courtyard.

Pendergast got off his horse, and Bean got off of hers before he could help her down, so he settled for hefting the stranger back onto his shoulder.  
“Gast, that’s not a dragon.” Zog said as they walked in.  
“He was _flying_ the dragon.” Pendergast replied.

“_I_ shot him down.” Bean said proudly.  
“Eh… bring him to the council room. Coming, Derek?” Zog asked.  
“Of course.” Derek’s face was abnormally serious.  
Pendergast sighed, and shifted the prisoner. “Is Elf Alley still on fire?”

“Nah, that got handled.” Zog replied. “Derek actually had some ideas on that, right Derek?”  
Derek nodded. “I’m good at water stuff.”  
They proceeded to the council room in relative silence.  
Pendergast sat the man down in the chair, and Bean put his bag and book on the table.

“Let ‘im go, Gast.” Zog said. “He can’t hurt anyone now, can he? Unless he can call a dragon or something…?”  
“No, he _made_ it!” Bean said excitedly. “It was actually kinda cool, right Pen?”  
Pendergast shrugged, but untied the man anyway. “It was more smoldering than cool, but it was a… it’s hard to describe, but it was made of wood and metal. It was no normal dragon.”

“State your name for the record.” Derek said.  
“Sky Gunderson. Look, I really don’t see what I’m being held for. I don’t have a dragon and none of this was _intentional_.”  
Zog dumped out the bag on the table. A book, some pencils, some odd parchment, and a... blowpipe, of some description, tumbled out. Derek sucked in his breath when he saw it.

“I say we kill him.” Derek said, feigning nonchalance.  
“I agree, but why?” Pendergast asked.  
“Yes, _why_? I have so much I can show you all.” Sky Gunderson said. “Even those who aren’t willing to listen.”

Derek shuffled papers in front of himself. “I say we kill him, because he’s dangerous to the kingdom, and dangerous to the king. I told you about his weapon.”  
No one saw Sky Gunderson pale.  
Bean scoffed. “Just because he’s dangerous doesn’t mean—”  
A shot rang out.

Sky Gunderson, in the time it had taken Bean to scoff, had grabbed the gun, aimed it at Zog, and attempted to flee out the window.  
“Daddy!” Bean screamed.  
“No no no no no…” Derek chanted. “No, it wasn’t supposed to happen this time!”

Pendergast tackled Sky Gunderson before he could jump out of the window.  
“Derek, stay with Dad.” Bean ordered, before running out of the room. “Miri! Bunty! _Anyone_! The king’s been hurt!”  
She could hear the bells ringing in her ears, just under the sound of Derek.

It seemed like forever. It seemed like no time at all. But then Bunty and Miri were there, and they helped Bean carry her father to his room, and Turbish and Mertz were helping Pendergast with Sky Gunderson and…

Bean returned to the council room. Derek was still huddled on the floor.  
“Derek, are you okay?” She asked quietly.  
“Pendergast asked the same thing.” Derek said, looking up at her slowly. “He’s a good man.”  
“He is, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Bean said.

Derek suddenly grabbed her hand. “I won’t let them hurt you this time, Bean. I’ll be a better brother.”  
“I… thanks, Derek. Do you remember how to fix Dad?”  
“I remember all the things Sorcerio did that made it _worse_.” Derek huffed. “But I don’t… I don’t remember that part, Bean. I tried to forget, and I guess… I’m so sorry Bean! It’s all my fault!”

“Hey, no.” Bean said. “You tried to warn us. It’s not your fault.” And she hugged him, because hugging him was easier than looking at the blood on her tunic, on her hands.  
“I don’t want to be king, I’m not ready.” Derek sobbed into her shoulder.  
“I’m not ready for Dad to die either.” Bean admitted.  
Derek pulled away, wiping at his nose. “Do you want to know something, Bean?”  
“What?” She asked, mostly because she didn’t want to think about him getting snot on her shirt or their father dying.

“I think it’s why Dagmar wanted to marry Father.” Derek said. “We… our family, there’s a story I found in the library. There was this great… _beast_ that lived in the sea. And it breathed out seawater and sea creatures and… I think it was an almost God.”  
“What does this have to do with us?” Bean asked, fearing the answer.  
Derek laughed mirthlessly. “It’s… it’s… It fell in love with a human woman, and came onto land in the form of a human man… they were wedded and he—it—built her a castle. A castle of dreams, where their descendants ruled e’ermore. And then, then I looked back at the family genealogy to disprove it… 500 years ago, when Dreamland was founded, there was only Camilla Grunkwitz. Her husband was listed as ‘The Old One’.”

“Derek, that’s just a story.” Bean said.  
“No, it’s not.” Derek said. “Um… don’t freak out, okay?”  
And then he transformed, much like he had in front of Zog and Luci. And then he snapped back to Derek, her little brother.

“Can-can I do that?” Bean stammered.  
Derek shook his head. “I’d think you’d know if you could. It’s probably different for you, less… physical. Like… I think you just warped time, when you were calling for help? It seemed to… look, I don’t know how to put this. It was slowed down, it felt like forever. It was sped up too though? It felt like seconds.”  
Bean looked down at her baby bump, then back at Derek, then pointed at her baby bump. There were no words to describe this situation, so she just sort of made a strangled sound. “I… need a drink.”

“It can be a lot.” Derek said. “Especially today.”  
Bean nodded, then stood. “I… need to find a way to help Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magnhild isn't dead, but she's not coming back for the rest of the story.  
Sky Gunderson is very, very lucky he's not dead. Don't worry, I'll fix that next chapter.


	13. You'll never guess what the Author's Note is about

No one knew what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened in Dreamland before.   
Sorcerio and Odval had indeed disappeared off of the roof, not that anyone minded, given what Derek had said.   
The apothecary could alleviate pain, but not much else.   
The elves didn’t know what to do.   
Bean had asked Sky Gunderson how to reverse it, but he’d been less helpful than Magnhild. When he realized that he wasn’t going to get his bag, or anything else off of her, he clammed up.

Derek—_Acting King Derek_—had forbidden her from giving him the bag, the book, or five potatoes, especially not any combination of such.   
That left one option. Bean waited until Pendergast was asleep, then pulled on her boots and a shift, and snuck down to the bowels of the castle, following the Maruvian symbols from so many months ago.

“H-hello?” She called. “Mom?”   
The music box started, her torch went out, and she still steeled herself. Then torches flared all around her, accompanied by those dead-eyed creatures.   
“Bean, what a surprise.” Dagmar said, eyeing Bean’s baby bump through the shift. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until your child was born, until you’d _finally_ realized what sacrifices I made for you.”

“You brought Sky Gunderson here to kill Dad, didn’t you?” Bean asked.   
Dagmar pulled out a flask from her waist. “Well, yes and no. He was supposed to get someone else to do his dirty work, I was thinking one of the idiot knights. Not _your_ knight, he’s far too loyal to Zog, but the other two…” She shrugged. “It’s really no skin off of my back _who_ pulled the trigger.”

“How do I fix it?” Bean pleaded.   
“A gutshot is fairly serious.” Dagmar sipped her flask. “Ask your knight, he’ll be sure to tell you what an arrow to the stomach means.”   
“_Please_, I’ll do anything! I’ll-I’ll… I’ll go with you, after I have the baby!” Bean said. “Just help me help Dad now—you have magic!”

Dagmar chuckled. “I have _better_ than magic. I have tweezers, a scalpel, gauze, a surgical needle and thread, disinfectant, gloves…”   
“I don’t know what that means.” Bean said. “But, can I…?”   
Dagmar smiled. “Of course, Bean. I could never refuse you, my baby. I’ll even give you four months after _your_ child is born before I collect—after all, how often do you get to hold your own child, before they are ripped from you? By age, or death, or… stone?”

Bean choked out a, “Thank you.”   
Dagmar snapped her fingers, and one of the little creatures disappeared, then came back holding a golden tray full of implements.   
Dagmar took the tray, and pointed to each one. “Gloves to wear—keep your hands out of the wound, you’ll only hurt him. A scalpel, to cut down to the bullet. Tweezers to take it out. A needle and thread—this is the tricky bit, you may need to sew him up inside before you sew him up _outside_. Disinfectant, to make sure he gets no infection. Gauze, to wrap the wound. Can you handle that?”

Bean took the tray, and nodded.   
Dagmar smiled. “Good girl. I’ll see you soon, Bean. Don’t forget, I love you.” She paused for a minute, then said, “You’re supposed to say it back.”   
“I love you too.” Bean said hoarsely.   
Dagmar’s face lit up. “Good girl. Well, you had better be off. Zog won’t hold on forever. Remember to change the bandages every few days, and to take out the stitches after a month.”

Bean moved as quickly as she dared at risk of spilling the implements. Miri was sitting a vigil over Zog, occasionally wiping his head with a cold cloth.   
“Dagmar…?” Zog asked blearily.   
“No, Dad, it’s me. I have to get the bullet out… this might hurt, okay? I’m sorry.” Bean said kind of quickly. “Miri, help me reveal the wound.”

“Got it.” Miri said, popping the cold cloth into Zog’s mouth. At Bean’s look, she shrugged. “What? It gives him something to bite down on.”   
“Fair enough.” Bean muttered, putting on the gloves as Miri revealed the wound.   
Bean took the scalpel, and pushed the wound open with her fingers on her other hand, cutting down to the bullet where she had to. “Found it… that didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I don’t think it pierced any organs… Tweezers? They’re the things that look like two knives stuck together.”   
Miri passed her the tweezers, and Bean fished out the bullet. “Almost done, Dad, don’t worry.” She put the bullet on the tray, then reached for the needle and thread. She cut it with her teeth, then began sewing as best she could. True, the stitches were a bit lopsided, but they held.

“I was never really good at embroidery.” She said to Miri.   
“Never tried it.” Miri grinned back.   
Zog groaned, and Bean tied it back around before cutting it with her teeth again. Then she poured some of the disinfectant on the stitches, then wrapped some of the bandages around Zog. “I think those bandages need to be changed every few days.”   
“Alright… hey, where’d you get this stuff anyway?” Miri asked.

“You know the basement witch Odval was worried about?” Bean laughed nervously.   
“What’d you do, promise her your first born child?” Miri joked.   
“Something like that.” Bean said. “Thanks for helping.”

“No problem.” Miri shrugged. “If I _had_ a dad, I’d want to help him too.”   
Bean smiled, then headed back to bed. She pulled the boots off, and slipped into bed.   
“Where’d you go?” Pendergast murmured sleepily, pulling her close.   
“Bathroom.” She lied.

“Long trip.” He snuggled up against her.   
“I guess.” She said.   
“You’re so cold…” he mumbled in her ear, as she snuggled down and they went back to sleep.

They woke up to the castle in a frenzy.   
“The king is treated!” Bunty said when they exited their room.   
“Ha ha… wonder how that happened…” Bean said.   
Pendergast glanced at her, then shook his head. “Let’s go see your father.”

Derek was somehow already there, as well as Miri, feeding the king soup.   
Zog lit up when he saw Bean. “There’s my girl!”   
“Hey, Dad.” Bean waved awkwardly.   
“You saved his life.” Derek said. “And you did it… better than last time. In the dream.”

“Thanks?” Bean replied.   
“Don’t be modest, you saved me with yer new-fangled medicine. How’d you know how to do that, anyway?” Zog asked.   
Bean bit her lip, when Miri said, “It came to you in a dream, _right_ Bean?”   
“Oh, oh yeah, right. I um… I found this stuff in Sorcerio’s tower. It was a one-time dream though so…” Bean shrugged.

“Well, that makes sense.” Zog said. “No need to question _that_ any further. Derek, stop sniffling, you’re freakin’ me out.”   
“I’m just… I’m so happy you’re alive, and Bean’s fine, and Bean’s baby’s fine, and I don’t have to burn Bean to death because Odval made me…” Derek sniffled.

“Oh, yeah, fair enough. Wait, Bean’s baby?” Zog looked utterly befuddled.   
“Yeah, you didn’t know?” Bean asked.   
Zog shook his head, keeping his eyes on Pendergast, who squirmed under his gaze. “No, I had no idea. You want this baby, right, Bean?”   
“You know what, Dad? You’re the first person to ask that.” Bean said, sitting down on the bed. “Yeah, I do.”

Zog patted her hand. “That’s that, then. Good for you, Beanie. You were so lost as a child, I’m glad you found stuff that makes you happy.”   
“Thanks, Dad.”   
“Anything for you, Beanie. That’s what a good parent’s supposed to do, right? Help their kid?”

She sniffled, then wiped at her eyes.   
“Are you okay?” Zog asked, which meant that Pendergast was now ‘subtly’ checking her over for injury.   
“I’m fine, just… just pregnant.” Bean lied. God, Dagmar was such a shit mom.   
“Look at me, I’m gonna be a grandfather.” Zog said. “Heh. Never thought I’d make it this far. Bean, Derek, get out, I need to talk to Pendergast about being a father.”   
Miri made the mistake of then trying to put soup in Zog’s mouth.

A minute later, Bean, Derek, and Miri, sans the soup, were outside of the room.   
“Seven o’clock, and all is well!” The herald called.   
“Well, it’s time for my shift at the Jittery. You two coming?” Miri asked, tying up her hair.   
“Yeah, why not?” Bean asked.

Inside the room, Zog ate some of the soup.   
“So, uh, what did you want to tell me?” Pendergast asked.   
“Stop looking so nervous, Gast. I know you’re worried ‘cause the men in your family are kinda shit, but you’re not like them.”   
“I know that!” Pendergast growled quickly.

“Watch your mouth, I’m still aware you got Beanie pregnant, and it musta been outta wedlock, seein’ as you didn’t have much of a wedding night.” Zog took a bite of soup.   
Chastened, Pendergast bowed his head. “It was… the night before our wedding.”   
“Oh, here come the technicalities! You didn’t _know_ you were getting married the next day.” Zog gestured with his spoon. “Pull up a chair, and shuddup.”

Pendergast did as he was told.   
“So, what’re you hopin’ for?” Zog asked. “Daughter? Son?”   
“A son, so that the kingdom has a spare heir.” Pendergast said dutifully.   
Zog glared at him. “It’s just you and me in here, Gast. This is why I kicked Bean and Derek and Mop Girl out. Jesus, you and Beanie are perfect for each other… no, what do you _want_?”

“I never get what I want anyway, so why should I want something?” Pendergast finally burst out.   
Zog slowly lowered his spoon and bowl. “There better be a pretty big exception to that rule regarding your wife, ‘cause if I find out you don’t actually love my daughter and you put her through all this, I’ll kill you here and now.”   
Pendergast wrinkled his nose, offended. “You _know_ I love Bean. She doesn’t count, I’m more hers than she is mine.”

Zog chuckled. “Yeah, that’s fair. You never answered my question properly.”   
Pendergast sighed. “I don’t _care_, I just want a healthy baby and for Bean to survive.”   
“Best answer.” Zog replied. “Okay, here’s what you do if you have a son, ‘cause you think it’ll be easier. And in some ways, it will, because you can train a boy. But the boy’ll drive you mad, ‘cause he’s just like you, but also too different.”

“I think you’re projecting.” Pendergast interrupted.   
Zog shook his head. “Nah. This is _real advice_. You gotta give the boy space to be himself, you know? And maybe… maybe he’ll be better than you ever were. Maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter. Take it from me, learn from my mistakes. Maybe he won’t be the son you thought you expected, but they’re your boy all the same. The boy may be closer to his moth—to Bean than to you, and that might just be the way of things, but you still gotta try.”

“I mean, we could always have a daughter.” Pendergast said awkwardly.   
“Daughters! Don’t get me started on _daughters_!” Zog gestured with the spoon. “You give ‘em an inch, they take a mile!”   
“With all due respect, I do know Bean—” Pendergast began.   
Zog cut him off. “This ain’t a Bean-specific problem. You can’t approach Bean and think _daughter_, ‘cause she’s your wife. That’s not how it works. No, what’s gonna happen is you’re gonna have a daughter, and you’re gonna realize, ‘oh my god, I have to protect her from the world, it hates women’. But you want to make your daughter happy, so what d’you do? You try to _give_ her the world.”

“Maybe that is the root of Bean’s problem with authority?” Pendergast suggested.   
“Bean woulda had a problem with authority whether I spoiled her or not.” Zog said sullenly. “She’s too much like me—that’s the thing you’re gonna realize. Your daughter’s gonna be a lot like you, and you’ll think, ‘why couldn’t you have been a son?’ because she’s a lot like you but not too much.”   
“So… what’s your advice?” Pendergast asked.

“Well, you’re a pretty by the rules guy. And I figured you’d panic if you were confronted with a situation you couldn’t handle well, like a kid.”   
“I can handle children!” Pendergast protested.   
“Nah, not really. You’re young enough to remember _being_ a kid, but both you and Bean were lonely kids. I’m hoping your kid, maybe kids, won’t be. You gotta have faith that your kid will make it through, trust ‘em not to fuck up too badly, and you gotta love ‘em even if they do. You gotta give your kid _room_ to fuck up, y’know?”

“Not really.” Pendergast admitted.   
Zog shrugged. “Fair enough. …I really only figured that out recently. I… if Bean’s a good adult, it’s not because of me. And I can’t help her, and I can’t really help Derek, but I can help you be a better father than I was.”   
“You still have time. They’re not dead.”   
“Eh… too much effort. I love ‘em, I really do, but… they don’t need me. They’re not… well, they are my kids, but you’re more like the kid I always thought I’d have. A warrior. Derek… he’s not a warrior, he’s a king. Bean? She’s a warrior, even if she shouldn’t be. It’s easier with you.”

“Thanks, your majesty.” Pendergast said awkwardly.   
“Ah, no ‘your majesty’. It’s just us, just a man, and his father in law.” Zog said.   
“I don’t know how to answer that.” Pendergast admitted.

At the Jittery, Bean was mostly stirring her coffee idly while Derek chattered about nothing in particular. “This shop is just _full_ of trade goods from the Western sea.” Derek said.   
“Uh huh.” Bean replied.   
Derek swung his legs. “When I’m king, I’m going to lead an expedition to the Western seas myself! I just want to see what it’s like! I mean, I’m not saying that we need to expand trade or anything, but… well, now that we don’t have to worry about Bentwood or Dankmire, I want to put our resources towards _new_ diplomatic relations, _new_ trade routes!”

“Uh huh.”   
Derek drooped. “You’re not listening, are you?”   
“Hmm? No, no I’m listening.” Bean leaned forward. “I’m listening. You’re talking about the… trade… routes?”   
Derek relaxed. “I guess you _were_ listening.”

“I was just… I haven’t seen Elfo and Luci recently, I hope they’re okay.”   
Elfo and Luci chose that moment to enter the coffee shop, as though they had been summoned. Elfo was leading a goose by a leash, while Luci was sitting on the goose’s back.

“Oh, hey, Bean.” Elfo said, faking nonchalance. “How’ve you been with your new friends?”   
“What’re you talking about?” Bean asked.

“We just felt kind of like you’ve been hanging out with the humans – and Derek—more than us.” Luci said. “Nothing personal—but admittedly, we did climb out of hell for you.”   
“You nearly killed me several times in Hell.” Bean pointed out.   
“Yeah, but I _didn’t_. For _you_.” Luci said.

“What have you guys been up to, anyway?” Bean asked, looking at the goose.   
“We got an apartment together. I threw a pancake party, and Luci wasn’t invited.” Elfo said smugly.   
The goose immediately bit Elfo on the ear.

Bean didn’t know what she’d expected, but somehow, Elfo and Luci getting an apartment together seemed… correct?   
“It wants to happen so _badly_… like the universe is trying to correct itself.” Derek muttered to himself.   
“What’s with you?” Elfo asked.

“Don’t you guys feel it?” Bean said. “Like when Sky Gunderson was here, or when you got the apartment together…?”   
Both of them looked at her blankly.   
“I can feel it.” Derek said. “Dad can probably feel it.”   
“I think Pen can feel it…” Bean muttered.

“Pendergast’s been around for about five years, and he’s consistently around you, me, or Dad. He, urgh, kisses you.” Derek made a face.   
“Someone wanna fill _us_ in?” Elfo asked. “No pressure, we’re just supposed to be your best friends, unless you replaced us…”

Bean and Derek looked at each other.   
“We’re descended from the Old One.” Bean said, as Derek said, “Someone messed with the timeline, we’re still feeling the ripples.”   
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?” Luci said.

Bean drank her coffee like a shot. “I also told Dagmar I’d go with her if she gave me the tools to save Dad, but who’s counting?”   
“What, like, now?” Luci asked.   
“No, no, no, no. After the baby’s born, so I’ll _appreciate_ the sacrifices she’s made for me.” Bean then sighed. “God, and I can’t even keep a drink down.”

There was a pause, then Elfo said, “The goose’s name is Ducko.”   
“Hello, Ducko!” Derek said, attempting to pet it. It immediately tried to bite him.   
“I said we should name it ‘Bastard’, but Elfo said no.” Luci sighed.   
“So, what are we going to do about Dagmar?” Elfo asked.

“_Is_ there anything we can do? She’s… she’s unkillable!” Bean pointed out.   
“Throw your knight at her.” Luci suggested.   
“No! She’d kill him!” Bean hissed. “She’d slaughter her way through everyone in Dreamland if I tried to run, and I _can’t_ run, because I’d have to take Pen, and he’d never leave his post!”

“So… what, you’re just gonna go with her?” Elfo asked.   
Bean put her head in her hands. “Luci, what’re the chances of me surviving that crown?”   
“Uh, the one that screws into your head? You’d have to be really, really powerful, like can’t-die kind of powerful. On the upside, most of your family seems to be that powerful. You’ll probably be fine.” Luci said.

Bean raised her head. “Really?”   
“No, I was trying to make you feel better. You’ll probably go nuts unless you get rid of the screws. Get it? Nuts? Screws?”   
Someone called, “That cat is making carpentry jokes! Let’s all laugh!” 

Bean tried to make a grab for Derek’s coffee, but he held it firm. “I’m going to _die_… I’m only 20… I don’t want to die…”   
Luci scampered onto the table. “Hey, think of it this way. You could always die in childbirth. Then at least you won’t be a wreck like Jerry.”   
“Jerry went to Heaven.” Elfo said. “Bean’s not going to Heaven. Sorry Bean.”   
“No, it’s true.” Bean sighed.

“Besides, if you die in childbirth, Dagmar will probably attempt to use your child for this ‘crown’ instead of you.” Derek pointed out.   
Luci scoffed. “She’s not going to try and put it on a _baby_, it’d slip right off.”   
Derek shook his head. “I was thinking more like pretending to _be_ Bean, given Dagmar’s relative age, and luring Bean’s child away the way she lured away Bean. Same chorus, different verse. Probably helped by the fact that Pendergast would probably try to get rid of all reminders of Bean, and her official portraits are kind of… bad.”

“Diabolical.” Luci said. “I like it.”   
“I have a surprising amount of darkness in me.” Derek said, sipping his drink.   
“So… we can’t save Bean?” Elfo asked.   
“I guess.” Bean said.

“Let’s make the most of your time left.” Luci said. “Barkeep! Another round of drinks for everyone—on _Zog_!”   
The people in the Jittery muttered appreciatively.   
“Wow, usually people get louder for free drinks.” Elfo said.   
“Everyone in here is sleep deprived.” Bean replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Derek's talking about the Wesern Seas, he means dealings with North and South America. Why am I bringing this up? 
> 
> Coffee, and tobacco (Zog's cigars). Both of which are reliant on plants native to the Americas, and both of which appear in the show to the extent that they can't be explained away. An entire episode takes place at the Jittery, a coffeehouse, which is very much an eighteenth century concept at the earliest. The burning of tobacco WAS earlier, even though I don't think European settlers realized it could do that quickly. The fact that Zog has a cigar that he clearly didn't roll himself is also a fairly 18th century innovation. That's _five hundred years_ ahead of Disenchantment's 1200s. 
> 
> So, obviously they have a great deal of contact with the Americas. Please don't ask me about the economics of the coffee import that Dreamland alone is taking, and whether that could have been sustained without the cash farming that is done with it today. I don't know about math, I know about history. And let's be honest, Dreamland and the other English kingdoms definitely couldn't colonize the Americas like this. In this timeline, Spain could... but I'll touch on later why it's not actually Spain. Colonization likely wouldn't be the same as well if done by the Caliphate instead of the Christian kingdoms. 
> 
> As well as this, a reason that the European settlers were able to gain such a foothold, particularly on the East Coast, is because of timing. There was a massive plague that swept the East Coast and wiped out... I think it was about 90% of the native population a few years before the Europeans started arriving en masse. Again, this is several centuries before that, so it definitely would not be easy for Dreamland to colonize-- or anyone else, really. So in this timeline, the Americas... 1) aren't called that, 2) are still the purview of the people who were there first.


	14. Chapter 14

So Bean made the most of the time she had left. She drank with Elfo and Luci, sat with Zog and Derek as they went through court rigmarole, practiced archery with Miri and Pendergast, and in general was around other people as much as possible. Mostly Pendergast.

Soon after she agreed to live her life to the fullest, she felt the baby move for the first time. She had been practicing archery with Pendergast at the time.   
“Take the shot.” Pendergast growled, stalking around in captain-of-the-guard mode. “I don’t have all day, I know you can—” Her hand shot out, and she pulled his left hand to her stomach.

“What’s happening?” Pendergast asked, flabbergasted.   
The baby moved again. Pendergast was officially out of captain-of-the-guard mode for the rest of the day.  
“What…?” Pendergast said, before he realized. “That’s—that’s the baby?”   
“I think so! I mean, I hope so, it might just be tapeworm, but—” Bean was cut off by Pendergast kissing her.

“Our baby…” He muttered, pulling her into a hug that swept her off of her feet. “Our baby…!”   
She hugged him back, laying her head on his shoulder. “You’re really excited, huh?”   
“You have no idea.” Pendergast pulled away, smiling shyly at her. “I just… thank you. I never thought I’d be here.”   
“Me neither.” Bean admitted. “I’m still terrified but… right now I want to enjoy it.”

“Me too. …we’re not going to finish archery today, are we?” Pendergast asked.   
Bean laughed. “Nah, probably not.”

People tried to come to her with naming suggestions, but Bean didn’t really listen, mostly because she wanted to pretend that she had more time than she actually did. That’s why instead of lying in when she went into labour, she was sitting next to her father as he held court.

She had, at some point in her pregnancy, realized that dresses were easier to handle in this state. She shifted in her chair, realizing that she felt… wet. She stood, to get a better angle—there was a puddle forming.   
“Beanie? You okay?” Zog asked, interrupting an upset shepherd.   
“I…” _I’m out of time_. “I think my water just broke.”

And somehow, _somehow_, Bunty knew, and she was swept off not to her room, but to one without as much light, where Bunty and Miri were rushing around.   
“What about my room?” Bean asked.   
“Too much light, love. It’d hurt your eyes.” Bunty said. “Miri! Get the chair! Princess, sit down on the bed, that’s a good girl.”

Miri ran out of the room, and returned with a chair with a hole in it. She then ran out of the room again, as Bunty banked the fire.   
Bean watched her for a minute. “What—agh!” She was cut off by a particularly nasty contraction.   
“Hush, love, don’t you speak.” Bunty said soothingly.

There was a noise in the corridor, then Miri came back holding a kettle in one hand, and cloth in the other. “Pendergast wants in.”   
“Absolutely not!” Bunty gasped. “What does he think this is?”   
“Well, you deal with him then!” Miri threw her hands in the air.

“Why can’t he come in?” Bean asked.   
“This is a space for _ladies_! We don’t need men in here, distracting us from our duties, fainting at the sight of blood!” Bunty replied. “Miri, make sure the cradle’s ready, I’m going to go get the jasper and the midwife.”   
“Wait, aren’t you the midwife?” Bean asked.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Bunty replied. She bustled out of the room, and Bean could vaguely hear shouting. Bunty must have won, because a few minutes later, her daughter the midwife came in with a little bag. She caught a glimpse of Pendergast, before the door shut in his face. Oddly, she felt a bit satisfied—see how he’d like it, even if he was no longer keeping her out of council spaces.

“Have you begun the prayers to Saint Margaret, yet?” The midwife asked.  
“No, it’s just begun.” Bunty replied.   
The midwife looked at Bean. “How far apart are the contractions?”   
“Uh… a few minutes? I don’t know, I wasn’t counting.” Miri said. “Bean, were you counting?”   
Bean ground her teeth and shook her head.

“May I examine the exit point?” The midwife asked.   
“Go ahead.” Bean ground out.   
The midwife helped her out of her dress so that she was only in her shift, then examined her. “Hmm… it seems to be progressing nicely. Did you notice any cramps last night?”

“Yeah? I thought it was just something I ate.” Bean said miserably.   
“No, it was the early stages of labor.” The midwife replied. “You might be able to give birth in a few hours.”   
“Hours?!” Bean demanded.   
“It’s not an easy process.” The midwife shrugged. “At least, not your first. This is your first, correct?”   
“Of course it is.”

“Well, there you go. Blame Eve, she’s the reason childbirth hurts.” The midwife said. “Lie down?”   
Bean acquiesced.   
The midwife climbed onto the bed, putting a horn to Bean’s stomach and listening, then feeling it with her hands. “Good news, the baby’s the right way around.”   
“There’s a wrong way?” Bean gasped.

“Mm-hmm.” The midwife replied, rifling through her bag. “Ah, blast, I don’t have any eagle’s dung poultices.”   
“No, no, that’s okay.” Bean said hurriedly.

“What were you doing without them?” Bunty fretted.   
The midwife took a deep breath. “What’s important is keeping the expectant mother calm.”   
Miri took Bean’s hand. “C’mon, it’s going to be okay. Focus on me.”   
Bean felt another contraction coming, and squeezed down on Miri’s hand accordingly.

“Ow, ow, okay, maybe don’t focus on me that hard.” Miri replied.   
_Clank, clank, clank, clank._ The sound of armor scraping against armor, and on stones, came from outside. As one, the three women attending Bean rolled their eyes.   
“He’s going to stay there forever, isn’t he?” The midwife muttered to Bunty.   
Bean laughed, in spite of herself. “That’s Pen, alright. He’ll-he’ll probably pace a hole in the floor.”

The midwife put a hand to Bean’s forehead. “She’s warm, that’s good. Princess, are you okay to try the birthing chair?”   
“The… what?”   
“Your baby is pulled down, yes? It helps, since you’ll be…” The midwife gestured vaguely. “Sitting.”   
Bean glanced over at the chair in question. The hole did appear large enough for birthing purposes. “Um, okay.”

They helped her into the chair, and yes, it did seem a bit easier than lying down.   
The midwife nodded sagely, rubbing a jasper crystal along the inside of Bean’s thighs, saying as though it was recited, “Just as you, stone, by the order of God, shone on the first angel, so you child, come forth a shining person, who dwells with God.”   
Bean shivered, feeling the cold, rough stone on her skin.

The midwife then placed charms on Bean’s stomach, and rubbed coriander and rosewater into her thighs. Then she checked Bean again. “Better… do you know the chant to invoke St. Margaret’s protection, princess?”   
“I don’t even know who Saint Margaret _is_, I just want this baby out!” Bean said through gritted teeth. She ground them so hard that a small part, right at the back of her mind, was worried she’d crack a tooth.

The midwife handed the jasper crystal to Bean to grasp, and Bunty took her other hand. Miri laid a comforting hand on Bean’s shoulder.   
The midwife took out another stone, and held it front of Bean, saying, “Open your roads and your door, in that epiphany by which Christ appeared both human and God, and opened the gates of Hell. Just so, child, may you come out of this door without dying, and without the death of your mother.” This stone was then tied around Bean’s waist.

Bean relaxed a bit. “Is that a spell?”   
“Of a kind.” The midwife admitted, noting Bean’s pain, and rubbing an ointment on her stomach.   
“Now, listen.” The midwife said, before clearing her throat. Bunty joined in. Immediately. “O God, grant us through the intercession of Your holy virgin and martyr Margaret, the graces necessary to bring this child forth. Humble Virgin, we ask you to protect this mother and child, and bring it healthy and hearty into the world. You know the temptations of mothers today, as well as the dangers that await unborn infants. Intercede for us, so that this woman may bring forth a healthy baby who will become a true child of God.”

Miri joined in on the third or fourth time. Bean’s mouth felt dry, and she mumbled along with the words, trying not to stare at the rotting head tied to Bunty’s waist. The warmth, the repetition, the smoke of herbs burning all made her head feel weird. Kind of like drugs, but also not like drugs. Drugs were at least intentional.   
Miri and Bunty kept chanting, and the midwife leaned in close. “I need you to push for me, princess. Can you do that?”

Bean could do that. It hurt—it made her _scream_—but she could do that. And in the background of the chanting, she could hear the _clank, clank, clank, clank_ of armor as he kept pacing.   
The midwife started taking hairpins out of her own hair, and Bunty did the same. Miri untied her hair as well, after Bunty gestured.

“Come on, princess. We’re almost there, they’ve almost crowned.” The midwife coaxed.   
“Miri, open the cupboards.” Bunty said. “Opening things will help the baby along.”   
“I… okay.” Miri left Bean’s side to open cupboards in the room.   
With one final push—_one final scream_—Bean pulled through. The midwife pulled the baby the rest of the way where she could, but the worst was over.

The midwife cleaned the baby’s face of mucus, letting them cry. She then handed the baby to Bunty, measuring the cord, tying it off, and then cutting it. She then immediately tossed it into the fire.   
“Come on, love, just the placenta now.” Bunty coaxed.   
“Wh…?” Bean replied. “I want my baby.”

“In a bit, love. Miri, hold the baby.” Bunty ordered.   
The midwife pushed on Bean a bit, and then something _red_ and _wet_ splattered underneath the chair.   
“Okay, love. Back to bed.” Bunty coaxed. Bean walked on shaky legs, mostly leaning on Bunty, who ran a warm, wet cloth over her thighs, cleaning her up.

The midwife took the baby back from Miri, who tied her hair back up and got to work cleaning up under the chair. The midwife looked the baby over, before washing it, rubbing in salt as well, and then gently washing it off. She then slid a small jasper bracelet onto the baby’s wrist.   
“That was your bracelet, once upon a time, love.” Bunty said gently to Bean.   
“Baby…” Bean held out her arms.

“Not yet, princess.” The midwife took out vials from her bag—one that looked like a dark liquid, which she spread over the baby’s tongue.   
“Vinegar, so that the baby will speak well.” Bunty explained. The baby began to cry, so the midwife spread the contents of the other vial—was that honey?—over the baby’s gums.

The baby stopped crying, and the midwife skillfully wrapped it up snugly in white cloth. Bunty brought the cradle closer, so Bean would be able to put the baby away safely when she was tired. The midwife put the baby in Bean’s outstretched arms.

“You have a daughter, princess.” The midwife said softly.   
Bean looked down. Her baby looked back with big blue eyes, just like hers.   
“Hi.” Bean said softly.   
The baby, content, closed her eyes.

“What do you want to name her?” Miri asked, still cleaning up the mess under the chair.   
“Emma.” Bean said with finality. “No… _weird_ add ons, like my name, just Emma.”   
“And middle names?” Bunty asked. “So as she can’t fall prey to witches?”

There was a knock at the door.   
The midwife opened it. “What do you want?”   
“The screaming stopped…?” Pendergast trailed off. “Um, may I see my wife?”   
The midwife clicked her tongue with disapproval. “You want to let in sunlight, and fresh air, and _yourself_, when she and the baby are recovering in this space?”

“Um… yes?” Pendergast tried.   
The midwife, who it must be reiterated, was a tiny girl, glared up at him.   
“Oh, let him in.” Bean said.   
“As you wish, princess.” The midwife said.

Pendergast walked over to the bed, and sat down next to her. “You’re so pale, Bean.”   
She rolled her eyes. “I’m always kinda pale, Pen. Here, do you want to hold her?”   
“Her?” Pendergast squeaked. “It’s a her?”

“Yeah, here.” Bean said.   
“Support the head.” The midwife hissed at Pendergast’s elbow. He managed not to jump too badly, but he still woke up the baby. She opened her blue eyes, and looked at him, then decided to go back to sleep.

“Her name’s Emma.” Bean said.   
Pendergast nodded slowly. “Do you… have any ideas for a middle name?”   
Bean shrugged. “I just pushed out a person, Pen. Why don’t you…?” She bit back the sarcastic response.   
Pendergast didn’t seem to notice. “Um… not that I was eavesdropping, or anything—”   
“So you _were_.” Bean smirked.

He ducked his head, as good as admitting to it. “What about Margaret?”   
“If I never hear the name Margaret again, it’ll be too soon.” Bean laughed.   
“Okay, what about Adelaide? Or-or…” He mumbled something.   
“Huh?” Bean asked.   
He looked up at her. “I said Lynette.”

“Emma Lynette… okay.” Bean said.   
He looked both defeated and exalted at the same time. “It’s my mother’s name.”   
“Oh.” Bean looked at her hands. “You never talk about your mother. Or… any of your family.”

“You’re my family now. You and Emma.” Pendergast said.   
Bean smiled. “_Okay_, but I’ll get the story out of you one day.”   
Pendergast laughed. “Good luck with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Bean felt the baby move for the first time, that was what was referred to as 'The Quickening'. It's also when medieval people felt the baby was actually a separate, alive entity. 
> 
> The other chants the midwife had WERE accurate, but unfortunately I couldn't find the chant of St Margaret and had to use part of a modern chant to St Catherine. Yes, this was all very much a spell kind of thing, but midwives, etc. used spells that had something to do with God, and these were considered 'okay' by the church if not downright medicinal. 
> 
> The room was designed to soothe the mother as much as possible-- no bright light, warm, etc. Also no men. The husband wouldn't see her after she began the lying-in until she emerged about a month later. Pendergast... wouldn't stand for that. _Clank, clank, clank_ indeed. 
> 
> So the baby's here! Did you guys think it'd be a girl or a boy? I can't say why Bean chose the name Emma, but I chose it because that day I was thinking about Emma of Normandy, a fairly well-known queen of England (well, wife to two kings, Aethelred and Cnut). Fun fact for the time line, Emma is actually two weeks early. That's part of why Bean was still doing things.


	15. Chapter 15

Bean was tired. Initially, she had just been worn out by pushing out a person, but then she quickly was tired of what she could and couldn’t do. She only had four months left, and the midwife—and Bunty, the traitor!— was insistent that Bean stay in the warm dark room for a month.

Bean managed to argue that her friends should at least be able to visit her. She also managed to argue that no, she _wouldn’t_ have a wet nurse, because Emma was going to stay with her as much as possible. The midwife seemed pleased by this, and had left, giving Miri and Pendergast and _everyone_ instructions on how to care for the baby. Bean half-listened, but she was _so tired_…

So she slept, and Pendergast stayed.   
That last part is important, because in the middle of the night, the stones on the floor were shifted, and Dagmar crawled out of the floor.

She approached the cradle, half-expecting Luci to jump out at her as a decoy. Nothing. The cradle was empty.   
Pendergast, for his part, still didn’t sleep heavily. You can’t just stop being a soldier.   
Dagmar stared at the cradle—had someone gotten there before her, and taken her grandchild?

She heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed, and looked up. Firelight glinted off of Pendergast’s blade. “What are you doing here?”   
“I came to see my grandchild.” Dagmar replied. “Surely you wouldn’t keep me from my family?”   
“Oh, no, but I’d gladly keep you away from _my_ family.” Pendergast growled.

“Come now, be reasonable. I just want to look, and see. It _killed_ me, not being here when my daughter needed me earlier.” Dagmar shot back. “I remember how scary it was, giving birth alone to my first child—”   
“She wasn’t alone.” Pendergast replied. “Because none of them would _let me in_. And besides, you say it killed you? I wish it had.”   
Dagmar glared at him. “One wonders what my daughter sees in you.”

“Clearly, none of it is your influence. Somehow, she managed to be free of all of _this_.” Pendergast gestured to Dagmar.   
“Cute.” Dagmar replied. “Bean is more like me than you’ll ever know.”   
“She is _nothing_ like you.”   
“Will you both just _shut up_? You’re going to wake up Emma.” Bean said, sitting up in the bed and wiping at her eyes.

“I just want to see my granddaughter.” Dagmar said. “Call off your attack dog.”   
Bean checked the baby in her arms, then shook her head. “Don’t call Pen that. Also, what makes you think I’m going to let you hold my baby? You’d probably grab her and run off back to the basement with your creepy dead-eyed things, and try to raise her to take over Dreamland.”   
“What?” Pendergast asked.   
“I don’t know, I’m tired.” Bean replied.

“Bean, I would _never_ hurt my grandchild. I just… do you have any idea what it’s like? One minute, your daughter is more or less a baby herself, then you _blink_, literally no time passed at all for me, and you have a baby of your own? I just want to hold her.”   
“Tough, you shouldn’t have tried to poison Dad.” Bean replied. “Besides, you would _never_ hurt Emma, but that doesn’t apply to me, does it?”

“Emma…” Dagmar tried out the word. “What a beautiful name.”   
Bean held her baby closer. “Pen, get her _out_.”   
“Gladly.” Pendergast said, trying to grab Dagmar and haul her out.

She moved too quickly for him, managing to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Bean.”   
“I didn’t _want_ you here.” Bean snapped.   
Pendergast managed to grab Dagmar’s arms. She let him tow her towards the door.   
“We both know that’s not true. When I gave birth to you, I screamed out for my mother.” Dagmar chuckled. “I mean, I was well aware that I killed her, but still.”

“I didn’t call for you.” Bean said firmly. “I mostly screamed stuff like, ‘oh god, make it stop’.”   
Dagmar kicked out at the air, pulling Pendergast off-balance. “Come now, Bean, don’t you want to commiserate before—”

Emma had been patiently sleeping up until this point, but people were getting loud and holding her a bit too tight and she realized that she was hungry. She began to wail, and everyone’s eyes turned to her.

Her Mother jiggled her a bit. “Shh, sh… it’s alright, go back to sleep.”   
“She’s hungry.” Someone across the room said, who sounded like Mother, but Not Really.   
Mother fumbled with the cloth things, before holding Emma to the Food. Emma ate, or at least tried to, but nothing was coming.

“I was the same way.” Not Mother said. “Of course, you were a bratty baby, but…”   
Mother held Emma to the other Food hurriedly. This one worked a bit better, and so Emma ate.   
“Let me _go_ to my daughter.” Not Mother sounded angry.   
There was the familiar _clank_, and Hard Metal Soft Voice sounded angry too. His voice was no longer soft. “Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged—or did you forget that you were the first one I turned to stone?!”   
“_What_?” Mother said. “Pen, you’re not going to get her out, just… come back.”   
Hard Metal Soft Voice _clanked_ back over to his chair, and picked up something. “Try it, witch, and I’ll skewer you.”

“Isn’t this room meant to be soothing? My blood on the floor won’t calm Bean down at all.” Not Mother replied. “Anyway, yes, I turned him to stone first. Why do you look so upset? He’s not stone now.”   
“_Why_ did you turn him to stone?” Mother sounded angry now. Emma did not like all this anger—was Not Mother the reason? Hopefully she’d leave soon.

Not Mother sounded bored. “Why else? He was loyal to Zog—still is, I suppose. He would have been a threat to our escape. It was _easy_. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw white hair turn the corner, and when he realized who it was, he was so embarrassed that he was bowing and scraping with ‘My Queen’—it was easy enough to inject it into him.”

“Inject?” Mother didn’t seem to know the word, which was okay, because Emma didn’t know most words. Any words, really.   
“In the neck, right above where it meets his armor.” Not Mother said nonchalantly.   
“And _how_ is this supposed to convince us to let you near our daughter?” Hard Metal Soft Voice growled.

“Well, I could kill you now if I wanted.”   
“Not with my guard up—not when I’m fighting to keep my family safe.”   
Emma was full now. She was tired, and people were loud. Mother was warm, and soft, and that was as it should be. She detached, then tried to snuggle up to Mother.

“Guys, Emma’s tired. I’m tired. Dagmar… _Mom_… you’re not getting our baby. Not now, not ever, not as long as I can still punch you in the face.” Mother said.   
“I just want to _see_ her.” Not Mother said. “Your dog can hold his sword to my throat the whole time that I hold her—”   
“You’re not holding her.” Mother said again. “You’re not touching her. You can look—she has blue eyes, and Pen’s nose. And, hey, _stop_ calling him that.”

And then suddenly Emma could see Not Mother, who looked a lot like Mother, before she suddenly disappeared.   
“I think it’s time you left.” Hard Metal Soft Voice snapped.   
“Fine.” Not Mother snapped back. “I’ll be back, Bean. See you soon.”   
“I _dare_ you to try it.” Hard Metal Soft Voice growled.

“Oh, you won’t be a part of the equation.” Not Mother said. There was a whoosh, like something had fallen. Emma didn’t know what a whoosh was yet, or a fallen, but it seemed like Not Mother was gone again, and now she could sleep.   
Hard Metal Soft Voice moved his hand, and whatever he was holding was gone too. “I know you don’t like it when I try and protect you, but you won’t have to worry about her as long as I’m here, Bean.”

“I know.” Mother said. “That—that’s what you do, you protect, and you fight, even if the odds are against you.”   
“Especially if they’re against me.” Hard Metal Soft Voice agreed. “I love you, Bean, and I love Emma, and I’ll do whatever I can for both of you, even if I have to die to do it.”   
“I know. I love you too.” Mother said. “Good night, Pendergast.”

“Good night… Tiabeanie.” Hard Metal Soft Voice sounded teasing.   
Emma slipped back into the soft embrace of sleep, cradled by Mother, protected by Hard Metal Soft Voice.

Days passed, not that Emma necessarily knew what days were. Sometimes people would be there, sometimes they wouldn’t. Sometimes Hard Metal Soft Voice would leave, almost like he was being dragged away—“You know they need me, Bean, I need to make sure they keep working…”   
“Pen, it’s fine, just _go_.” – but he’d always come back quickly enough. He hovered, and if Emma were inclined to think about how other people felt, she’d think that Mother was exasperated, but secretly pleased.

People would come by, and hold her, and then give her back to Mother. There was Round Red, who had eyes and a face kind of like Mother but furry. Hard Metal Soft Voice always accompanied Round Red. Emma liked Round Red, even if he wasn’t Mother or Hard Metal Soft Voice, because he was soft and he had a fun voice, and he called her ‘beautiful’. Emma didn’t know what ‘beautiful’ was, but she knew it was a good word for her. Words were for later.

Sometimes with him came Round Blue Shy. He was always hesitant to hold her, which made Emma hesitant to _be_ held by him. Sometimes though, he’d chatter away at Mother with passion about his interests, even if she wasn’t necessarily interested. Emma hoped Round Blue Shy would be happy.

There was also Brown Hair Cleaner. Sometimes she’d come by, and bring bowls to Mother, or sit and talk softly. She fascinated Emma—sometimes the hair would be pulled back, and sometimes it wouldn’t. She also changed Emma’s snug warm wrappings every few hours, even if Emma was clean. This confused Emma, but she didn’t worry about it. If it was a problem, Mother or Hard Metal Soft Voice would handle it.

Sometimes instead of Brown Hair Cleaner, there was Round Not Mother. Mother treated her with respect, and Round Not Mother would always cuddle Emma. Sometimes she had food, not that Emma could eat it. Round Not Mother was someone else’s mother, and that was okay. Everyone needed a mother, and maybe she was Mother’s mother. If Emma was able to wrap her head around the concept, she probably would have been able to think it through as such, but alas, she was a baby.

There was Small Green and Soft Black with Tail. They always came together.   
“Wow, Bean, your baby’s kinda ugly.” Soft Black with Tail said.   
“I think she’s cute.” Small Green said.   
_“Thank you_, Elfo. She’s just kinda new, Luci.” Mother said.   
“Do all human babies look like that when they’re new?” Soft Black with Tail asked.

“I guess? Someone would have said something if they didn’t.” Mother said.   
“It’s me. I’m someone, saying you’re the proud mother of an ugly baby.” Soft Black with Tail cackled.   
“Luci, stop being mean to the baby.” Small Green admonished.   
“Make me.”   
“If you guys make her cry, you’re going to have to leave before Pen gets back.” Mother warned.

“You know, she’s really cute for a human.” Small Green said. “I mean, I’ve never seen an elf baby, but this is nice too. I guess.”   
Soft Black with Tail seemed less interested. “Where _is_ Pendergast, anyway? I thought he was never, ever going to leave your side again?” 

“I mean, he’s still got a job.” Mother pointed out.   
Soft Black with Tail’s… well, tail… brushed up against Emma’s face. She cooed.   
Mother looked startled, as did Soft Black with Tail.   
“I told you she’s cute.” Small Green said smugly.   
“She’s never done that before.” Mother said wonderingly.

“I have a way with babies.” Soft Black with Tail brushed her face with his little hand, and she cooed again.   
“I thought you said she was ugly.” Small Green pointed out.   
“Well, yeah. That doesn’t mean I don’t like the Beanie Baby. Imagine how much trouble I could get her into, starting from birth instead of when she’s like, 19.” Soft Black with Tail said dismissively.   
Small Green bumped his shoulder. “I know you care.”

“No!” Soft Black with Tail scoffed. “Wh-why would I care about her tiny face? Why is it so tiny?” His tail flicked happily, though.   
“Uh, ‘cause I had to squeeze her out?” Mother scoffed.   
“That’s gross. Humans are so gross.” Small Green made a face.

“I know, it’s great, isn’t it?” Soft Black with Tail remarked.   
“I’m surprised you’re able to touch her, given how much God the midwife was invoking when she was born.” Mother said.   
“Nah, babies are kinda like demons. They just care about themselves, y’know? Tiny agents of chaos.” The hand brushing her cheek was still so gentle.

So yes, sometimes people (not Not Mother, she didn’t come back) would come to visit Emma. Sometimes they’d bring her offerings, which were placed in the sleep box where she stayed when she wasn’t in someone’s arms. Most of the offerings were quite soft—Emma liked them well enough, but she preferred being cradled by Mother more. Mother seemed to prefer that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mother is obviously Bean. Hard Metal Soft Voice is Pendergast. When Pendergast moves his hand and the sword disappears, he's just re-sheathing it. Dagmar jumped back down the hole, by the way. Pendergast didn't push her.   
Not Mother is Dagmar. Round Not Mother is Bunty. 
> 
> Small Green and Soft Black with Tail are obviously Elfo and Luci. Don't be fooled, Luci actually really likes this baby. He didn't know she'd be so adorable-- and cause so much trouble, of course. 
> 
> Round Red is Zog, Round Blue Shy is Derek. Brown Hair Cleaner is obviously Miri, and she changes Emma so often because that's what conventional wisdom said to do at the time-- change the baby every three hours. 
> 
> "The offerings" as Emma calls them, are toys. Soft toys for babies.


	16. tHe SoLdIeR fRoM tHe MoUnTaIn

Finally, _finally_, Bean was able to leave the small, warm dark room without them trying to put her back in. Finally, she’d sweated away the excess water weight. Finally, she slipped back into her cyan tunic, her brown breeches, her _boots_, and tied Emma to her back.

Emma, for her part, didn’t mind. Blue eyes gazed out, seeing everything, but taking in nothing. And then she went to sleep, because she was a month old, and walking was a lot like rocking when you were doing neither but feeling the effects of both.

Bean’s first stop was the training yard. Pendergast was once again drilling the soldiers, and a part of her remembered that she’d been promised one-on-one training. Ah well, better wait then. She checked in on her father and Derek—and they were busy too. Huh. This felt… kind of familiar.

Truth be told, Bean had never really… _fit_ into Dreamland. She’d thought the problem had been that she was without a mother, but Dagmar was back and Bean still felt like a puzzle piece from another box. Everyone was so busy with what they were doing, and there wasn’t room for her. Originally, she’d tried to fill this void with alcohol, then with adventures with Elfo and Luci. She couldn’t do either now—not while she was nursing, and not with a baby on her back. Not that she’d leave Emma behind, not now…

Maybe she didn’t fit perfectly into Dreamland, but that didn’t mean she wanted to leave it yet. She started walking through the town, waving when people called out to her. She made her way to the docks, sitting on a bulwark and breathing in the sea air.   
“Hey, Bean. I didn’t know you were getting out today.” Miri walked by, carrying a crate.   
“Hey, yeah, I was going to go nuts in there, and it’s been a month. They can’t keep me in there any longer. Uh… can I help with that?”

“Nah, this is the last one. I’m taking it up to the Jittery, our regular delivery boy called in sick with the plague.” Miri shifted the crate a bit. “By which I mean, he crawled to the doorstep and died. So what’s eating you?”   
“How do you know something eating at me?” Bean asked.   
“You’ve got that look on your face. The one that says, ‘I really wish I could have a drink right now’.”   
“I’m an alcoholic, that’s _always_ the look on my face.” Bean snarked.

“Nah, not really.” Miri replied. “So spill.”   
“What do I _do_ in Dreamland?” Bean asked.   
“I thought you were a writer.”   
“Nah… I’m not that good. And I want to be _outside_.” Bean pointed out. “But… baby.”   
“Mm… have you tried leaving her with a wet nurse? I hear it’s all the rage among rich ladies.”

“No! I… I want to make the most of the time I have left. Before… you know.” Bean gestured.   
“Oh yeah, when’s the basement witch collecting, anyway?” Miri asked.   
“Wait, I told you about that part?”   
“Nah, I eavesdrop on everybody in the Jittery. It’s not like I’m paid enough not to.”

“…three months.” Bean admitted.   
“Hmm, seems like you have time to get your affairs in order…” Miri shrugged as best she could holding the crate. “Make sure Emma’s not as lonely as you, see her baptized…”   
“See her what now?” Bean asked.

“…this explains way too much. Okay, so you know how religion is used to control the masses? The royal family’s also supposed to buy into it.” Miri said. “So you need to get your baby baptized in case she dies, or whatever.”   
“_What?”_   
“I mean, she probably won’t die, but it’ll introduce her to the populace.” Miri said. “’Cause, y’know, she’s a royal baby.”

“Bap-tise…?” Bean said slowly.   
“Wow, no wonder you have a talking cat and a basement witch for a mother.” Miri muttered. “Eh, Pendergast’ll probably know about it. …why is the face back?”   
“It kinda seems like Emma’s the only thing in my life where I have control, where I’m… useful.” Bean gestured vaguely. “I don’t know, that sounds bad… you know what I mean though, right?”

Miri set the crate down. “I do. I’m also guessing that without that kind of anchor, you turned to an alcoholic spiral last time.”   
“_Spiral_ is a pretty strong word…” bean said, though she’d more or less admitted the same thing to herself earlier. “How do I fix it? I’m not… _good_ at anything—”

“I’m going to stop you there. You’re a good friend, you’re a good mother, you’re well-intentioned, you can drink anyone I know under the table, you’ve got a great heart, you’re not afraid to stand up for yourself.” Miri listed off.   
“Those aren’t _things_ I can do.” Bean pointed out.   
Miri shrugged. “Okay then. You’re a pretty good tactician once you get out of your own head, you have an in with the king so you’re already politically set, you’re good at archery, you’re great with people. If the position wasn’t filled, I’d recommend you for Captain of the Guard.”

“Miri, be serious.”   
“I am serious. You saved us when the Vikings came. Not Derek—you. You were out there on the front lines. You’re a warrior at heart, Bean.”   
“I’m also a woman.” Bean said bitterly. “Pendergast basically said the same thing to me once.”   
Miri shrugged again, and crossed her arms. “I guess. I don’t know, I just told you what you’re good at. I’m not really the talent fairy, Bean.”

Bean laughed. “Yeah, fair.”   
“Look, to answer your question, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you’re some kind of witch.”   
“Uh…”   
“No judgment, I’m just saying you can probably do some kind of magic. It’s a thing here, so… I mention the good heart stuff because you need to know that I know you’re not going to hurt anybody. Who doesn’t deserve it. On purpose. Okay, so there are several caveats, but they’re not… your fault.” Miri gestured vaguely. “Where was I going with this?”

“I have magic? How did you know?”   
Miri rolled her eyes. “Besides the fact that you have a familiar—”   
“He’s a demon, actually.”   
“That’s worse. Anyway, you have a demon friend, your mother’s a witch, you’re unbaptised? There’s the fact that you have shock-white hair and you once told me that you couldn’t touch a crystal ball because your fingers made it spark.” Miri pointed out. “There’s probably some books you can read in Sorcerio’s office that can get you started.”

Bean wrinkled her nose. “Aw, books?”   
“You can’t really be a writer without reading.” Miri pointed out teasingly. “Read them outside if you need the sunshine so bad—your freckles are almost fading.”   
Bean went cross-eyed trying to look at her nose.   
Miri laughed, and hefted the crate up again. “See you soon, Bean. Besides, if Pendergast won’t practice archery with you, I will. It’s better than changing your sheets.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.”   
“Eh, I get paid to do it.” Miri said, but she was smiling. “But, it’s… nice to be something other than Mop Girl though, y’know? Even if I’m still doing Mop Girl things.”   
“Fair enough. You can talk to me if you want…” Bean waved her hand vaguely. “I don’t know, better stuff? Better jobs?”   
“Nice try, but Bunty’s in charge of what I do.” Miri pointed out, smirking. “Go on, I have to get this to the Jittery, and Pendergast’ll probably freak out if you’re gone too long without him knowing where you are.”

Bean laughed, then said completely seriously, “God, he probably would.”   
“With the baby too.” Miri clicked her tongue. “Guaranteed to give him an aneurysm, especially with the basement witch running around. You, uh… trying to desensitize him to you leaving, or…?”   
“I just want to be independent.” Bean said. “Not at his beck and call, y’know?”   
Miri tilted her head slightly. “I mean… you’re a married woman. That’s what marriage is in this day and age. The wife’s world is the husband, the home, but… you don’t run your own household.”

“I’m not a typical wife.” Bean pointed out. “I know that, you know that, Pen—”   
“Was about to tear through the countryside looking for you, because you couldn’t be bothered to leave a note?” A new voice interrupted.   
Miri sucked air in through her teeth. “Hoo boy. Well, I’ve got this crate, so I’ll be seeing you…”

Pendergast’s hand shot out and grabbed the back of her hood. “Not so fast, who are you?”   
“Um, Miri? I was at your wedding? …I work at the castle? I change your baby’s diapers?” Miri tried.   
“Pen, let her go.” Bean pinched the bridge of her nose. “She’s on the clock at her other job right now.”   
“I have never seen this woman before in my life, do you honestly believe her lies?” Pendergast demanded.

Miri sighed very loudly, put down the crate, and undid her hair.   
Pendergast dropped her as if scalded. “Wh… _Mop Girl?_”   
“I have a name. I just told you my name.” Miri pointed out, redoing her hair. “And Bean’s right, I gotta get this crate to the Jittery. I know you know where that is—I’m not even going to touch on _that_ right now—but anyway. Bye, Bean, see you later.”

“Bye, Miri.” Bean waved. “Say ‘bye’ to Miri, Emma.”   
Emma woke up, saw Hard Metal Soft Voice, and cooed.   
Pendergast softened slightly. Not all the way, but enough to pull Bean into a nearby alleyway so that they weren’t arguing in the street where all and sundry could hear them.   
(All and sundry could probably still hear them, but it was the thought that counted.)

“What were you thinking, just disappearing like that?” Pendergast hissed. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? Dagmar is still on the loose! We don’t know who’s working with her!”   
“I was _thinking_, I’d been basically locked in a room for a month, and I was going to go nuts! I haven’t had a real drink since before Emma was born—”   
“You were going _drinking?!_”   
“No! Jesus, no! But I just wanted to be _out_, to see people on _my_ terms, not when it fit their schedule! Why is that so bad?!”

“Because I thought you were _gone_, Tiabeanie! Gone, with our baby, and I hadn’t been there to protect you!”   
“It is not about _you_!” Bean threw her hands in the air. “And I checked in on you, but you were busy, so I left to go down to the docks!”   
Pendergast picked her up, turned her around, and hurriedly checked the baby. “She looks fine…”   
Bean turned herself around. “She _is_ fine. Fresh air won’t hurt her, Pendergast.”

“_In spite_, of you taking her to the docks! Where all manner of terrible things could have happened—what if she’d fallen into the water? What if _you’d_ fallen into the water?”   
“We live in a sea kingdom. I can swim, and I can sure as shit protect my baby from drowning.” Bean pointed out. “Just say you think I’m a bad mother, and get it over with, so I can say you’re an overprotective father.”

“Ah—wh—_overprotective_? How dare you, I am just the right amount of protective!” Pendergast growled.   
Bean poked him in the chest. “You’re just like my dad, and I’m not having that happen to Emma. She’s not going to feel _trapped_ the way I did. And you didn’t deny that you think I’m a bad mother.”   
“Well, you took our baby to the docks! What’s next, a bar?! You’re so focused on not being _trapped_, but how trapped are you really, Tiabeanie? I’ve given you _many_ liberties that most men wouldn’t give their wives, and you throw it in my face, every time! Your _father_ has given you many liberties! Tell me, how _trapped_ is Emma in danger of being, if this is your idea of being trapped? What, you’ll have her walking the streets?”

“…you have a problem with me walking now?” Bean asked, completely caught off-guard.   
“No! I meant… prostitution.”   
“Oh. _Oh._ No, I don’t want her…! Gah. I had to fight for every scrap of independence. I just want her to not _have_ to fight for it!” Bean snapped. “Jesus, Pen, I went out for a walk, and you tracked me down! I leave the room that yes, I _was_ trapped in for a fucking month, and you nearly called a kingdom wide search! I have a chat with a friend, and you accost her! How long were you eavesdropping on us, anyway?”

“Long enough to hear something about me being desensitized to you _leaving_ me.” Pendergast snarled. “And why is that, exactly? Have you found another man to toy with?”   
“Oh yes, while I was locked up for a month where the only men who came to visit me were you, my dad, Derek, Elfo, and Luci, I found a lover.” Bean said sarcastically. “You caught me. No, who would it even be?”   
“You don’t deny that you’re planning to leave me!”   
“You _never_ denied that you think I’m a bad mother!” Bean pointed out. “You leaned into it! I don’t have to tell you _anything_!”

“Tiabeanie, I am your husband, and I have rights!”   
“I have rights too! Rights not to be stalked in the goddamn street, Pendergast! Rights to enjoy the time that I have left with my family, instead of getting into a screaming match with my husband!”   
“A family you’re _planning_ to leave!”   
Bean legitimately considered bashing her head against the wall. She hated being sober. “Yeah, ‘cause otherwise Dagmar’ll slaughter her way through the kingdom if I try to run!”

Pendergast chuckled mirthlessly. “And you couldn’t tell me this before? _Me_?”   
“’Cause you’d freak out! Don’t say you wouldn’t, you’re freaking out now because I took a fucking _walk_ without your permission!”   
“The law’s on my side, Tiabeanie! Also watch your language, there’s a child present, not that you care!”   
“Well, it’s a _dumb_ law! And it should be changed! And of _course_ I care, that’s why I brought her outside!”

Turbish, of all people, walked by. “Uh, Pendergast said I’m supposed to break up a couple if they’re fighting in the streets.”   
“Stay out of this!”   
“_I’m_ Pendergast, you moron!”   
Turbish walked away hastily, muttering to himself about finding Pendergast.

Bean untied Emma from her back, shifting her into her arms, before leaning up against the nearest wall. “Look… drag me back home, lock me up, it doesn’t matter. You’re not… I’m not… agh, the one time, I do something completely selfless, it blows up in my face. In three months, Dagmar’s gonna take me to Maru, and screw a weird crown to my head.”   
“Why?” Pendergast snapped.   
“Because I got the tools from her to save Dad’s life when he was shot!” Bean snapped back.

“A likely story.” Pendergast snorted. “And so, in three months when you and your lover—”   
“Again with the lover! Who’s the lover, Pen? I haven’t had sex in several months, and you were very much there last time!” Bean shook her head, rocking Emma as she began to cry. “Shh, shh… it’s okay… here, you take her.”

Without warning, she thrust the baby into Pendergast’s arms. “Wh…” He scrambled to hold Emma properly, beginning to rock her like Bean had.   
“If I’m _such_ a bad mother, you take her. It’d probably be better for her not to be around me, since I’m such a terrible parent, and you always know what’s best, and everything I’ve ever said to you is apparently a lie!” Bean stomped away, raising her middle finger at him.

Turbish immediately turned up. “Pendergast, thank God I found you! There’s a couple fighting, and they wouldn’t stop!”   
“Turbish, are you referring to me and my wife?” Pendergast growled.   
“Yeah.”   
“Turbish, the only reason I’m not punching you right now is because I’m holding my daughter.”   
“Okay.”

Pendergast shouldered Emma. “I’m going to take her back to the castle, follow Bean, would you?”   
Turbish nodded, and disappeared around the corner. Pendergast headed in the opposite direction, sighing when he heard the crash of armor and, “I am NOT in the MOOD for any of you armored jerkfaces to approach me right now!”

Okay, maybe that had a been a bad idea. God, if only Stryker and Bolt were back…   
Emma had quieted down a bit, but she was still fussing. Maybe his pauldrons were in the way…? He got her back to the castle, at any rate, and handed her off to Bunty. She was softer than his armor, but… Emma was still crying. Crying harder now.

“Oh, little love, don’t worry. What’s ailing you? A bit of colic? Oh, we’ll handle that…” Bunty whisked the baby away as Pendergast stepped into the throne room.   
Zog saw him, and there must have been something on his face, because Zog told Derek to take over the petitions, and motioned for Pendergast to walk with him.

“So, what’s wrong?” Zog asked.   
“She’s _impossible_!” Pendergast blurted out. “She pushes, and _pushes_, and…! Doesn’t she appreciate that I give her freedom as is?!”   
“Where is Bean anyway?” Zog asked.   
“She took a walk earlier, down to the _docks_. With Emma!” Pendergast said.

“…okay? She wasn’t going to dunk the baby, was she?”   
“No.” Pendergast huffed. “That’s not the point! What if she had gotten hurt? Doesn’t she realize how much I…?!”   
Zog sighed. “So, you’re frustrated with her for taking her baby on a walk?”   
“Our baby!”   
“Gast, she’s been locked in a room with the baby for a month. I know you were worried, but don’t you think you’re blowing it a bit out of proportion? Bean’s a big girl.”

“I just… I want her to be able to rely on me, and I… she said something about leaving.” Pendergast admitted.   
“Maybe she wants to leave you because you throw a fit every time she leaves your line of sight?” Zog suggested. “If it helps, she hasn’t said anything to _me_ about it.”   
“I…” Pendergast ran his tongue over his teeth. “I messed up, didn’t I?”   
“Pretty badly, yeah.” Zog said.

“I should go find her.”   
“…nah, I think you shouldn’t do that. Let her cool down.” Zog suggested.

Meanwhile, Bean had long since kicked open the door of _Luci’s Inferno_. “What’s up, everybody? My husband hates me, I’m a terrible mother, and I need a _drink_.”   
“Okay, you guys know the drill. Out.” Luci said. Luckily, there weren’t that many customers this early in the day.   
“So, what’s up with Pendergast?” Elfo asked.   
“What’re you doing here?” Bean replied.

“Luci offered me a job. It gives me something to do.” Elfo shrugged. “So, why’re you here?”   
“Pen flipped out on me. I’m not a child!” Bean huffed.   
Luci slid her a glass of coloured liquid, and she sipped it. “That’s not alcoholic.”   
“It’s a Shirley Temple. You’re nursing—I don’t want you to regret more stuff later. So, why’d Pendergast flip out?”   
“I left the castle with Emma.”

“You don’t have Emma now.” Elfo said.   
“I gave her to Pendergast, since I’m apparently such a terrible mother.” Bean spat, sipping her drink.   
“Did he actually say that?” Luci asked, fascinated.   
“He didn’t _not_ say it!” Bean huffed. “He _basically_ said it.”   
“So he didn’t _actually_ say it.” Luci sighed. “_Okay_, I _guess_. So, Pendergast freaked out about you leaving—since he’s not the kind to lock you up forever, what set him off?”

“He worries _so much_. I can handle myself!” Bean pointed out.   
“Yeah, Pendergast is usually aware of that. What else?”   
“He freaked out because I took Emma to the docks. Nothing was going to happen to her!”   
“Right, right, it’s not like you and your baby are the best things to ever happen to Pendergast, and he’d be totally lost without you.” Elfo muttered.

Luci snorted. “I thought _I_ was playing devil’s advocate.”   
Bean ran her hand through her hair. “But, he… he was eavesdropping on me! He grabbed Miri, because he heard the tail-end of our conversation about how… you know, I have to leave, because of the Dagmar thing…?”   
“Oh, he doesn’t know about that?” Luci asked.

“Were you just going to disappear on him?” Elfo asked, aghast.   
“He’d try and stop me! I’m not going to let him die over that!” Bean shot back. “Besides, he thinks I’m a terrible wife, and a terrible mom, and he’s probably right, and he’s better off without me!”   
“So, what, you wish Dagmar would come and take you away right now?” Elfo asked.   
“Maybe.” Bean sighed, shooting back the rest of her drink.

“Tough tits—you’re an adult, and you have to work through your problems like an adult.” Luci said, pouring water into her empty glass. “Sometimes, there’s no _magic_ solution, you just gotta suck it up.”   
“I don’t wanna suck it up.” Bean muttered. “When’d you get so mature, anyway?”   
“Like I said, Devil’s Advocate. Besides, you can’t go running into the forest, right? We’re past that now. You gotta move forward, and not wallow. Elfo, poke her in the shoulder.”

“I’m not gonna do that!” Elfo said.   
“Argh, do I have to do everything?” Luci whined, before climbing onto the bar and scurrying over, poking Bean several times roughly in the shoulder. “Hey. Hey. Hey, Bean. Grow up.”   
“I thought you didn’t _want_ me to grow up.” Bean snapped.   
“That was before I lost my job for you losers. Then I realized I was probably the smartest one out of the three of us. Drink your water.” Luci ordered.

Bean glared at him, but she drank it anyway.   
“So, if you really hate your husband that much, just leave him for real.” Luci continued.   
“No!” Bean said. “I… I don’t hate Pen.”   
“I _know_ you don’t.” Luci said. “That’s why I said to suck it up and apologize. You’ve got three months left, you want to spend it being mad at each other? No, you want to spend it getting dicked down before you die.”

“Luci!” Elfo hissed as Bean flushed and buried her face in her arms.   
“What? It’s true.” Luci replied nonchalantly.   
“He was wrong too.” Bean muttered, slightly muffled by her arms.   
Luci shrugged. “He’ll probably apologize.”

“What if he doesn’t? What if I’m the only one who apologizes—and then he just locks me up until Dagmar takes me away?” Bean asked, lifting her head.   
Luci examined his nails. “Then he’s not worth it. We’ll break you out, take the kid, take a boat, sail the world a step ahead of your stupid husband _and_ Dagmar. What do you have to lose besides your pride by apologizing? Especially when you fucked up?”

“Fine! Fine. You win, I’ll go apologize.” Bean pushed herself off of the stool and headed towards the door.   
“You’re welcome!” Luci called after her. She raised her middle finger at him, but didn’t turn around.   
“I’m such a great marriage counselor.” Luci sighed, satisfied.

She didn’t _run_ back to the castle. She was still kind of mad at him. She did check the training yard before she went anywhere else though—Turbish and Mertz were hanging around, not doing much, but that didn’t mean anything.   
“Hey, have you guys seen Pendergast?”   
“He might be breaking up a dispute between a couple I saw earlier.” Turbish said.

“Was this me and Pendergast?”   
“…oh! Yes. It was. My head hurts.” Turbish said.   
Bean turned to Mertz.   
“I wish Stryker and Bolt were back. They could find Pendergast.” Mertz sighed.

Knowing she’d get nothing out of them, Bean checked the ramparts—not there. She finally headed into the castle.   
“There y’are, Bean!”   
She stopped, and turned slowly. “Hey, Dad. …have you seen Pendergast?”

But Zog didn’t push it. “Yeah, he’s in your room with the baby.”   
“Oh. Okay, thanks Dad.”   
She made her way to the tower, and slowly pushed open the door. Pendergast had his back to the door, Emma on his shoulder, gently bouncing her and singing something she didn’t recognize. Oddly, he was also out of his armor.

Bean knocked on the open door, and Pendergast whipped around.   
“Hi.” Bean said softly.   
“Hi.” Pendergast repeated.

Bean walked into the room. “I’m… sorry. About not telling you about the Dagmar thing, not the other stuff. I’m… I just didn’t want you to worry. I guess that backfired.”   
“I’m sorry too. You’re not a bad mother, you’re… you’re my wife. And after thinking about it, I can easily see how you’d get a bit stir crazy. I guess I just was focusing on the baby and what people think _should_ be that I forgot what works best for us.”

Bean nodded once, then sat down on the couch. Pendergast joined her, still holding Emma to his shoulder.   
“What were you singing?” Bean asked, mostly to fill the silence.

“Oh, just… something I remember from when I was little.” Pendergast’s jaw set, so Bean could tell this was a dangerous line of thought.   
“What are we going to do about Dagmar?” Pendergast finally asked, turning so that he could make eye contact with her.   
Bean stared at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know. I… we can’t fight her off. I’m not going to let you die over this.”   
“We could run.” Pendergast replied.   
“She’d follow. I know she would. And the minute either of us let down our guard, she’d strike. And then you wouldn’t have a castle garrison with you, it’d just be you, and me, and Emma…”   
“She can’t be this all-powerful creature.” Pendergast snapped.

“She survived being burned alive, a pickaxe to the head, and god knows whatever else without a scratch.” Bean pointed out. “She got here, under the castle, without anyone noticing, and amassed a tiny, creepy army. She got in and out of the dungeons multiple times, trying to win Magnhild over. We never knew. _You_ never knew.”   
“What’s the alternative—losing you?! Letting Emma grow up without a mother?!”

“Otherwise, I die knowing you did too! Letting Emma grow up _in the hands of Dagmar!_”   
Pendergast took a deep breath. “I don’t want to do this again. I don’t want to risk losing you, and you don’t want to risk losing me. But, Bean, how could I live with myself if I just… let you go to your death?”   
Bean swallowed. “I don’t know. I… we have three months to spend together. I’ll keep the knife in my boot, and everything, but just… for now, I just want to enjoy the time I have with you.”

“Alright.” Pendergast said softly. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bean was stuck in the room for a month. 
> 
> Emma SHOULD have been baptized around the two week mark, that was the norm for royal babies. Conventional wisdom does not explain how this worked with the 'staying in the room for a month' thing. Bean also wouldn't have been able to go to church until after she was acceptably 'cleansed' from the deep, womanly evil of GIVING BIRTH bleegghhh. (Medieval attitudes, hand to God.) This mostly meant she couldn't receive communion or actually participate in Church, not that she was excommunicated. 
> 
> No, I don't know what Pendergast was singing. Part of me wants to say it was something in Welsh (headcanon that he's bilingual because this chapter was written around the time that I realized he has a Welsh surname for a name, and that's expanded on later) OR one of the Heather Dale King Arthur songs.


	17. He's just holding her for 90% of the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a smut scene in 7. A smut scene in 10. There is a smut scene here, in 7 + 10. I am good at math!
> 
> Anyway, it starts with Bean taking his hand and leading him back to the room. It is sfw again when she asks "Why'd you stop?"

So everybody pretended that everything was fine.

Well, not everybody. Pendergast was training himself and the knights even harder, and he’d sometimes pull Bean over to train because she needed more self-defense (in his opinion) but he didn’t _say_ anything about why they all needed to train. And that was good enough for pretending.

Their anniversary was coming up, two weeks before Bean’s birthday.  
“Hopefully, this one will be a bit better than a Viking attack.” Pendergast joked.  
Bean shrugged. “I got to kick ass. That part was great. God… I didn’t even realize it’d been my birthday until you were back, and then there was other stuff. Like being pregnant.”  
“Well, how did you spend your last few birthdays?” Pendergast asked. “Before the Viking attack.”

“Well, I got so drunk on my nineteenth birthday that you had to haul me back to the castle—”  
“You threw up on my boots, I remember that.” Pendergast grimaced. “I meant what happened before that?”  
Bean shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. My eighteenth birthday was the one with the unicorn incident—”

“Unicorn? What unicorn?” Pendergast asked.  
Bean blinked at him, confused. “But… you were there…? I mean, you said something about drinking so hard you’d forget, but I didn’t think you actually _would_.”  
“If I went to all this trouble to forget, I don’t want to remember. Your seventeenth birthday, if I recall you locked yourself in your room all day.”  
Bean frowned in concentration. “Well… I was on a crying jag that whole week. No wonder you didn’t see me. And you were on campaign in the crusades with Dad when I turned fifteen and sixteen. You didn’t miss much then either, I just got Bunty to give me and Derek cake. And then just me. Oona tried to be nice, but… eh. I was a little shit.”

“Those all sound kind of sad.” Pendergast noted.  
“Well, how’d you spend your birthdays in the past?” Bean scoffed.  
“…fair point.” Pendergast admitted. “Okay so neither of us are really birthday people. What about our anniversary, then?”  
“Anniversary? I thought that was for people who lasted like… 25, 50 years?” Bean said.

“Well, we’re both convinced the other one’s going to die, so…” Pendergast crossed his arms. He had tried to keep his tone flippant, but it hadn’t really worked.  
Bean bit her lip, trying to think of how to keep this from devolving into an argument. “Hey, Pen, c’mere.”  
He looked up at her, and she gestured for him to come over.

“I can hear you from over here?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to seduce me out of this line of thought, Bean.”  
“No, no, that’s not what I’m going to do. C’mere.” She said.  
He moved to join her—but then she’d grabbed his hand and thrown him on the couch, quickly climbing on top of him so that he couldn’t move.

“And this isn’t meant to seduce me?” He asked.  
She pulled her –his—knife out of her boot, and grinned. “Nope. If this was a real attack, I could have gotten you by now. See? Your self-defense lessons have been paying off.”  
“I thought you weren’t really paying attention to those, based on how much I had to adjust your hips…” He trailed off as her smirk grew. “Jesus, Bean, you could have just _said_.”

“Aw, but then you would have gotten all flustered in front of _everybody_ instead of just _me_.” She laughed. She then slipped the knife back into her boot and held up her hands to show him she wasn’t armed.  
He didn’t move.  
“Uh, isn’t this the part where you flip me over and—” He kissed her, but he didn’t flip her.

“Now, why should I reward such bad behavior?” He muttered in her ear, before biting the lobe.  
“That’s not fair.” She replied.  
Now he was the one smirking. “Isn’t it? What could I do with such a _naughty_ wife?”

She was just about to tell him what he could do, when there was a knock on the door. “Hey, Gast? Ya in there?”  
As gently as he could, Pendergast threw his wife on the floor and vaulted over the couch. “Your Majesty, can I help you?”

“Am I interrupting anything?” Zog asked as Bean slowly sat up and glared at the door.  
“No.” Pendergast said, as Bean said, “Yes.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about bolstering our forces in case of eh… you know, the stuff we were talking about earlier.” Zog gestured vaguely. “I noticed you’re already training the knights hard—but you’ll never believe this. Stryker and Bolt are back.”  
“You’re kidding me.” Pendergast said, because now the Captain of the Guard was talking to the King, not Pendergast to his father in law who’d nearly murdered him last time he’d walked in on them. Or, well, Odval had walked in on them. That wasn’t important now.

Bean picked herself up off of the floor. “So we’re going to go check on them _now_?”  
“Well, since I’m not interrupting anything…” Zog shrugged.  
Bean nodded once, then cracked her knuckles and marched past him. They followed her down to the courtyard.

“Your Majesty—” Stryker began.  
Stryker managed to dodge Bean’s punch. Bolt didn’t.  
“Hey, you can’t just go around beating up my knights!” Pendergast grabbed her around the waist.  
“They deserve it.” Bean snapped. “Sanctimonious assholes…!”

“I had hoped that you’d forgotten about that…” Stryker muttered while Bolt rubbed his nose gingerly.  
“Hey, you guys are back now. The past is the past.” Zog said. “Eh… what’d these guys do again?”  
Bean struggled in Pendergast’s arms. “I kicked their asses and they went crying to Pendergast about it—except in their telling, they weren’t beaten by a _girl_…” She trailed off, muttering.  
“There is no way _you_ could have gotten us without superior numbers!” Bolt snapped. “Sir, surely you don’t believe—”  
“You shouldn’t have said shit about me to my face then! At least Turbish and Mertz don’t _need_ to get punched in the face! All that shit about me being drunk—lemme go, Pen!—but you two were the ones drinking on duty! I wouldn’t have fucking _told_ Pendergast if you hadn’t been such dickbags, not that he believed me!”

“O-kay. Anyway, how’d you two find your way back?” Pendergast asked as Bean struggled in his arms.  
“Sire, you’ll never believe it.” Stryker said, shooting a wary glance at Bean. “We wandered near and far—at times, we thought we heard the voices of the other knights and the princess on the wind, but it must have been a trick of the mind—we were in what must have been another section of the Enchanted Forest once, before the kingdoms split it asunder, when we came across a vision. She must have been a fae creature, so great was her beauty. Sire, she was the spitting image of your late wife Dagmar. When she heard who we were, she used her fae magicks to bring us back to our section of the Enchanted Forest. We easily found our way home from there.”

“Oh, shit.” Zog said. “Uh… what’d she say she wanted?”  
“Nothing but for us to help her in her time of need—she said that a wicked knight has stolen away her daughter, and surely it would be noble for us to help her?” Bolt wheedled to Pendergast.  
“Noble.” Pendergast repeated, exchanging a look with Bean.  
“Oh boy, there’s so much to fill you two in on.” Zog sighed. “Promises made to Dagmar aren’t… _great_.”  
“Sire, it could not have been your lady wife, dead as she’s been for these past fifteen years.” Stryker said. “It was a fae creature—”  
“It was Mom, and you idiots walked right into her trap.” Bean snapped. “Shut up about ‘fae creatures’ or whatever.”

“As I said, a lot to fill you two in on.” Zog said hurriedly. “Bean, stop bothering the knights.”  
“Yes, isn’t there a tankard of beer with your name on it?” Bolt sneered.  
“Stryker, Bolt, stop bothering the princess.” Pendergast huffed. “You’re _actively_ making the situation worse.”  
Stryker muttered something that Pendergast and Zog didn’t hear.

“Well, I was _about to_, before you two assholes showed up and ruined the moment.” Bean hissed.  
“You—you—sire! Your daughter is running rampant…!” Bolt sputtered. “A truly wanton woman!”  
Bean made a face at him.  
Stryker shook his head slowly. “No, no… there’s some angle I’m not getting… she _would_, because she’s completely out of control, but Pendergast?”

“Hey, watch it, you’re talkin’ ‘bout my daughter here.” Zog warned.  
“Thanks, Dad, for finally stepping in.” Bean said sarcastically.  
“Nah, I’m just doin’ it because even if you’re married, your virginity was and always has been an investment for the kingdom.”  
“_Thanks_, Dad.” Bean ground out.

“Married? You?” Bolt scoffed. “Who’d have you?”  
“Your two smartest knights, huh?” Bean said to Pendergast.  
“The bar’s kind of low.” He admitted. “Also, I never said they were my smartest, I said they were my best trackers. Look, they were competing with Turbish and Mertz. It’s easy to be the best when they’re your competition.”

“Turbish didn’t just call me a whore to my face.” Bean pointed out.  
Stryker and Bolt both cringed.  
“We… implied it. The trip has been long, and hard.” Stryker said.  
“Hey, maybe you guys should leave _immediately_ to go find your elf princess or whatever.” Bean said.

“She was a _fae creature_ who wore the guise of the late Queen Dagmar! Surely you of all people, princess, would find that fascinating!” Bolt said.  
“I meant the daughter you guys think this lady contracted you to find, or whatever. Why don’t you go looking for that poor woman, and leave me the hell alone?” Bean demanded.  
“But you’re—” Pendergast began, before Bean elbowed him pointedly.

“Well, we would, but she said the maiden’s in Dreamland.” Stryker said.  
“Yeah, as far as last she knew. Think about it. If there’s a wicked knight, he’s gotta be kind of noticeable, right? Have we seen anyone like that, Pen?”  
“No.” Pendergast raised an eyebrow at her. “We haven’t.” He shifted her into a bridal carry, since she was no longer squirming so much and holding her by her midriff wasn’t doing either of them any favors. He still didn’t trust her on the ground.

“So, a wicked knight, in the Dreamland area with a kidnapped maiden, there’s not a lot of places that you can hide someone like that, right? And besides, everyone knows that wicked knights ride huge black horses. You guys should go looking for tracks of something like that. Ask people about a wicked knight riding through.” Bean said.

“_Or_, you could stay here and do your jobs and forget that this ever happened.” Pendergast said.  
Stryker and Bolt both posed dramatically.  
“Alas!” Bolt sighed. “We swore a knightly oath to the fae creature that we would find her daughter as soon as we were able.”  
“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” Zog sighed, turning to leave.  
“We also swore to aid her in the recovery of her daughter however we could.” Stryker said.

“So, yes, the princess is right in this one circumstance.” Bolt sighed, crossing his arms. “A broken clock is right twice a day.”  
“Lemme _go_, Pen.” Bean said. He slowly set her down, still hovering in case she lunged for Stryker or Bolt again. “So are you gonna go looking for her…?”  
“After a night of rest, of course. We would never leave a maiden to be ravaged by a knight who has forgotten his vows.” Stryker said, apparently to Pendergast.

Pendergast paused for a moment, before saying, “If you do find them, make sure it’s not a case of the maiden and the knight running off together. An angry parent instead of a desperate one.”  
“What, if Emma was grown and ran off with a boy, you wouldn’t round up the knights and chase them down?” Bean teased.  
“That’s different.” Pendergast said.

“Emma…?” Bolt wondered.  
Stryker looked like he was thinking very, very hard—or possibly he was very gassy. It was hard to tell. Slowly, he said, “Pendergast wouldn’t have sex with a married woman… and the princess isn’t stupid enough to flaunt an extra-marital affair in front of her father…”  
“Jesus Christ, Stryker. She’s _my_ wife. We have a child. I’ve been staying out of your argument since it’s a conflict of interest… and Bean can handle herself.”

“_Why_?” Bolt asked.  
Pendergast glared at him. “Why _not_?”  
“Oh, let me count the ways that she is a wicked woman!” Stryker said dramatically. “Unfit for naught but the basest—”  
Bean punched him. Pendergast crossed his arms. “Maybe you should stop insulting my wife unless you want to get hit more often, Stryker.”

“So much for staying out of it as a conflict of interest.” Stryker whined.  
Bolt threw himself onto his knees in front of Pendergast. “Sir, she has controlled you with her feminine wiles! You must take her in hand lest she destroy us all!”  
“Bolt?”  
“Yes, sir?”  
“Get up.”

“Okay.” Bolt got back up to his feet.  
“He has a point.” Stryker said. “Can she truly be a good mother and wife—”  
“Stryker, Bolt.” Pendergast barked. “You two are trying my patience to its _utmost_ limit. My marriage is my business and mine alone. I will take my wife in hand on my terms. Unless you have a problem with me as your commanding officer, or with _Princess Tiabeanie_ within her capacity as a royal that you should defer to, I don’t want to hear it. _Do_ you have a problem, either of you?”

Both Stryker and Bolt opened their mouths.  
“Let me rephrase that. Do either of you have a legitimate problem? Because do you remember what happened _last_ time you came whining to me about the princess, and I figured out that you had led me on a wild goose chase regarding brigands in the kingdom?”  
“There _were_ brigands! She had an army at her disposal!” Bolt huffed.

“Bolt, _we_ are meant to be the army at her _father’s_ disposal. And since you’ve been gone, the princess _has_ raised an army, and the maneuvers were different from the attack you described, if I needed more evidence that… what was it? That the princess wasn’t ‘head of an underground criminal ring that targets you two specifically, somehow deeply cunning despite being drunk off of her ass’? No, indeed, how could I have easily discovered that such a criminal ring _didn’t exist_?” Pendergast snarked. “Barracks, now, both of you. Clean yourselves up, get some decent rest, and if this shit comes up again, you’re both getting disciplined.”

Getting disciplined meant that Pendergast would hand them a training sword, take one for himself, and essentially beat the shit out of them, before they’d be confined to barracks for a week. It didn’t happen often.   
“Yeah—!” Bean was cut off because Pendergast once again swept her up into his arms, putting her over his shoulder.

“Don’t interfere with my men, Bean.” Pendergast said firmly, still in captain-of-the-guard mode. “Let’s go.”  
Bean managed to wait until they were back in the castle before saying, “Can you put me down now?”  
“No.” Pendergast said. She could tell from his tone that he was smiling. “You need to be disciplined too.”

“If you try to ‘take me in hand’ I’ll kick you in the face.” Bean said.  
He finally set her down on the ground. “Do you really think so little of me?”  
“…no. What’d you mean by ‘take me in hand’?” Bean asked.  
Pendergast smirked. “Well, the same thing I meant by disciplining you.”

“Oh. _Oh._ Okay—but no throwing me on the floor this time. Not cool, Pen.” Bean said, before taking his hand and leading him back to their room.  
To be fair, he didn’t throw her on the floor this time. Instead, he waited until long past his jaw was cramping, until her legs were trembling and she was gasping. “_Pen…_”

He finally pulled away. “Yes, princess?”  
“Stop… _teasing_.” She whined.  
He pretended to consider it. “Are you going to behave, princess?”  
“_Pen_.”  
“Alright, _princess_.”

And then;

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Having fun?” One hand stayed on her waist, pulling her ever closer. The other snuck up under her shirt and _pinched_. Her own hands tightened on the couch’s arm she was slung over.

She automatically rolled her hips back against him, and he bit back a grin.  
“Ah—what happened to me being in charge?” She demanded, biting her lip to keep from crying out.  
His hips moved again. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”  
“_No_.” She said firmly. “I just… usually I look at you.”

“_Usually,_ you like to bite me to keep from screaming, princess.” He muttered huskily in her ear. “And we can’t have that when you’re supposed to be being _disciplined_, Bean.”  
“Disciplined my _ass_.” She muttered.  
“Let’s just pretend that for tonight I’m the one who bites instead of you, so that tomorrow my good mood doesn’t go away.” He muttered into her hair. “Besides, don’t you like how _deep_ I can go like this…?”

She gasped as his hips moved again. “Don’t—don’t stop.”  
“I wouldn’t dream of it, princess.” She could practically _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

And then;

By the time they were back in the bed, flushed and utterly undressed, Bean had wriggled her way back on top, and was pinning his hands to the bed.  
“So, _discipline_, huh?” She grinned.  
He smirked back, and bucked his hips. “How’s your seat, princess?”

“You can’t pull any dirty tricks without your hands.”  
“Tricks, princess?” He raised an eyebrow. “There aren’t any tricks here.” He bucked again, and she bit her lip. Of course he noticed. “Perhaps I play a bigger role than you thought…?”  
“I’m still in charge.” She said. Words were getting hard again—damn him.  
“Of course.”

She leaned down and kissed him hard—partially to wipe that smirk off of his face—and he took the opportunity to roll her. She whined, realizing she was the pinned one now, and also coming to the realization that she didn’t necessarily care. She was _close_.

He repositioned her so that he could go deeper, her legs wrapped around him, but her knees so far back that they were nearly touching the blanket underneath her, wide enough to accommodate him. He started off this round almost torturously slow.  
“_Pen_.” She tried to free her hands so that she could pull his hair—he’d go faster if she could only…!

He still went faster and faster though. Her legs tightened around him, and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming again. The castle would hear her. Everyone would hear her. She managed to keep the scream down by telling herself _it would wake the baby and then you’d have a mess—oh God. _  
But then he did something weird. He pulled away.  
He came back to bed a minute later, pulling her close, but in a cuddling kind of way.

“Why’d you stop?” She asked, hooking a leg around his and putting her head on his shoulder.  
“Because I didn’t want you to get pregnant again so soon.” He replied. “…I mean, unless you want to? We can try again next time if you want.”

“No. I don’t… thanks. But um, tell me next time, okay? So it doesn’t just end abruptly.” Bean said.  
Pendergast smiled. “Enjoy yourself?”  
“Asshole.” She muttered into his shoulder.  
He laughed. “Well, congratulations, Bean. You made me say the word ‘discipline’ more this one night than I have in most of my career.”

She laughed too. “Shut up.”  
He kissed the top of her head. “Never.”  
“Dork.”  
“Your dork, princess.”

She bumped her head up against his. “You’re not fooling me. I only know you call me that when you’re trying to be _smooth_.”  
“…Does it work?” Pendergast asked, caught off-guard.  
“Maybe.” Bean admitted. “But only because—”

That was when the baby started crying.  
“Well, at least she waited until we were done, unlike Dad.” Bean muttered, getting out of bed. The family was fast asleep soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't actually realize writing this chapter that Pendergast rides a black horse. That was a later addition to chapter 10 once I went back and watched the footage. To be fair, Bean was trying to invoke tropes, not point out she's who they're looking for. 
> 
> Also the warhorse's name is Carrots now according to me. He came with that name, because he likes carrots. (Zog thought this was funny, Mertz and Turbish's horses are named Peas and Potatoes.) Pendergast is a big ol' Arthurian nerd and probably would have named the horse something like 'Gaheris' if left to his own devices. 
> 
> Turbish and Mertz wanted Stryker and Bolt back. Pendergast didn't. The incident Stryker, Bolt, and Bean were referring to, Pendergast was intentionally a bit harder on Bean because no one should accuse him of impropriety or favoring her over his own men. It... set them back a bit. This is Pendergast's new solution to not having his authority questioned. 
> 
> By the way, the thing Stryker muttered that only Bean (and Bolt, but he wasn't going to rat out his best buddy) heard was, "She's not going to fuck you." He's really lucky Bean's the only one who heard that.
> 
> OKAY time for actual historical information. Anniversaries weren't really a Thing until the Victorian era. At best, in the medieval era in Germany, a husband would give his wife a silver wreath after 25 years, and a golden wreath after 50. They were obviously incredibly expensive, so it was really only a thing the rich did.


	18. Happy Birthday Bean

So nothing really happened on their anniversary, but they were still both in a great mood. Pendergast made jokes about finally getting to have their wedding night, no one really pissed either of them off, and it was fun.

The real trouble came with Bean’s birthday. While Pendergast had managed to put aside his fears for their anniversary, he had been growing more and more antsy as time grew shorter with Dagmar’s deadline. If Bean wanted to leave the castle, she had to have an escort. If she had to have an escort, it had to be him, because she’d easily give Turbish and Mertz the slip, and letting her near Stryker and Bolt alone wasn’t feasible.

Thus, Pendergast grew frustrated—he had better things to do than follow his wife around like a lost dog—and Bean grew frustrated—she was an adult and could damn well handle herself. But they both let it aside for her birthday. More specifically, she would visit the town at specific times, and he would go with her (and Emma) and do his work as an unofficial policeman.

The morning proceeded fairly normally until they did so. When they entered the town, Luci immediately leapt onto Bean’s shoulder. “So, what’re we doing?”  
“What?” Bean asked, shifting Emma.  
“For your birthday. Duh. Last time, we fought off Vikings. Just ‘cause you have a kid now means you don’t have to stop partying, right?”

Elfo ran up as well. “Luci, don’t peer pressure Bean to be bad again. She was making such progress!”  
“I do hate doing what Elfo tells me to… wait, that was your plan, wasn’t it?” Bean glared at Luci. “Not cool, man. Also hey, you know I want to have like… I don’t know, hobbies and shit.”  
“Yeah, yeah, I remember you saying that you asked Mop Girl about hobbies.” Luci said. “Personal demon though, y’know? Gotta tempt you into sin… and I just noticed that Pendergast has been standing there the whole time. Huh.”

“How’d you miss him?” Elfo asked.  
“I _am_ in full plate.” Pendergast crossed his arms. “And taller than my wife.”  
“Uh… meow?” Luci tried.  
“I’m not Turbish and Mertz. That won’t work on me.”

“Dude, it _has_ worked on you, up until I just admitted it.” Luci scampered over to Pendergast’s shoulder.  
“He’s good now.” Elfo said. “Ever since he helped me and Bean out of Hell—well, really, it was his fault we were there in the first place, since Bean never died and I was in Heaven and they convinced me to come down so that they could bring me back to life—”  
Pendergast raised a hand to stop Elfo. “Please don’t tell me about your adventures in Hell with my wife. Demon, are you beholden to Dagmar?”

“What? No, she stuck me in a jar once.” Luci said.  
Pendergast pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, who _summoned_ you?”  
“Ohhh. Bean’s Aunt Becky and Uncle Cloyd. Don’t worry about ‘em. Bean accidentally killed them in self-defense.” Luci scrabbled back to Bean’s shoulder, peering at the baby. He waggled his tiny fingers in her face and smiled slightly when she cooed—and then Pendergast picked him up.

“Nice try, I’m not letting you near my daughter, demon.” Pendergast huffed. “Bean is an adult—and clearly your best efforts won’t work—but who knows what diseases you carry?”  
“Fine, it’s not like I like babies anyway. Particularly your baby. She’s gross.” Luci scoffed unconvincingly. “You’re just mad I was a wedding present for Bean back when she was having a _planned_ wedding not a _shame_ wedding.”  
“Luci, stop bothering Pen. He’s being _really_ cool about you being a demon.” Bean pointed out.

“A lot cooler than any of us really thought he’d be.” Elfo said. “So… what’re we doing for your birthday, if we’re not going to Luci’s bar?”  
“I thought you didn’t want me to drink.” Bean said.  
“I didn’t know you actually listen to me.” Elfo replied. “It’s kind of refreshing, being listened to… but I don’t know what to do with this power now that I have it.”

Kissy walked by. “Happy birthday, Bean!”  
“Thanks, Kissy!” Bean called back.  
“Hey, doesn’t your dad do a whole festival thing for his birthday? Why don’t you get one?” Luci asked.  
“Stop trying to start shit, ca—demon.” Pendergast ordered. “Some things are just the way things are.”  
“No, it’s alright. Dad’s kind of an asshole but…” Bean shrugged. “He’s not going to exactly _stop_ now.”

“I mean, he rang the city bells all day when Emma was born.” Elfo pointed out.  
“Yeah, and he kept crying at her baptism.” Luci added. “‘Oh wow, the gift of life is precious and I never thought I’d get to hold a baby, let alone Bean’s baby, and maybe this particular baby is kind of cute and she has to be protected at any cost’. Like, we get it buddy. Everybody feels that way.”  
“Still not letting you near my daughter.” Pendergast said.  
“Aw.”

“So… back to the birthday thing… what do you want?” Elfo asked.  
“I want not to get kidnapped by Dagmar. But… honestly, right now my life is going pretty great.” Bean said. “I’m… I’m actually a lot happier than I was a year ago. And I feel like all I really want for today is to spend time with you guys, and Miri, and Bunty, and maybe Kissy, and Derek—and wow, I have a lot of friends now. _Weird_.”  
“_Lame_.” Luci called. “Sappy! Boo! Leave the baby with Pendergast and go get _drunk_ with us.”

“Luci, I’m nursing.” Bean pointed out. “I _can’t._ Not least because it’s not worth getting into a fight with Pen on my birthday. Or proving Stryker and Bolt right.”  
“Eh… yeah. I mean, I wasn’t gonna get Elfo drunk either, I’m pretty sure if he touches hard liquor, he’ll die. Also, Pendergast doesn’t drink on duty, and drinking alone is kinda sad.”  
“Then why’d you suggest it?” Bean asked, as Pendergast muttered, “I don’t drink _off_ duty that much either.”  
Luci shrugged. “I don’t know what’s _family-friendly entertainment_ besides the stuff in Hell that’s cloyingly sweet and annoying. Drinking is a way for us to talk—we could even go to your stupid coffeehouse and drink stuff there.”  
“Miri says I shouldn’t drink multiple cups of coffee…” Bean bit her lip.  
“Yeah, ‘cause you don’t go straight from alcohol to caffeine dependency. It’s a wonder you’re not more fucked up.” Luci replied.

“Watch your tongue.” Pendergast huffed.  
“Jeez, I can’t insult your wife, I can’t insult your baby, what else can I insult? Elfo? After a while it just seems like beating a dead horse, y’know? Elfo _knows_ all the shit I can say, ‘cause I’ve said it already.”  
“It seems kind of like you guys have been getting closer recently.” Bean pointed out.  
“Yeah.” Luci shrugged. “Maybe so.”

“We kissed the other night.” Elfo pointed out.  
“Oh, wow…” Bean said. “That’s… great! I’m so happy for you guys! I mean, I never saw this coming, but if it makes you happy…”  
“Can the elf even consent?” Pendergast asked. “He looks like a doll people point out molestation on.”  
“Hey! I’ve had sex!” Elfo huffed. 

“Elfo _was_ the badass of Elfwood until they all came here and immediately became shitty people.” Luci agreed. “You’ve effectively ruined all the work I did on Bean, good job, so now I guess the one person left in the world for me to corrupt is Elfo.”  
“So… you’ll stay with me forever?” Elfo asked.  
“Don’t say it like that! All _sappy_. God, you sound like these guys going on about their baby.” Luci huffed. “Lemme go, Pendergast.”

Pendergast opened his arms and let Luci drop. Like a cat, Luci fell onto his feet.  
“Anyway, we’ll see you later Bean. We gotta come up with a present.” Elfo said. “We just wanted to say hi, and happy birthday!”  
“Uh… okay.” Bean said, waving goodbye at them as they left. “That was weird.”  
“Mm.” Pendergast didn’t say much. “You’re not… possessed, are you?”

“What? No. No no no.” Bean said. “No, Luci and I are _very much_ separate entities.”  
“Well, that gives me peace of mind.” Pendergast said. “Walk with me?”  
On their walks in the town with Emma, people had become fairly used to them, even if they were already familiar with them as different people. It was somewhat annoying for Pendergast because it was hard to keep the peace with a woman and child nearby, but at the same time, Bean listened to the people. She spoke to them, and usually offered whatever advice she could. She was something more than the perpetually drunk party girl now to them.

As such, while they walked around, there were sporadic shouts of “Happy birthday, Princess!”  
Someone put a flower crown on Bean’s head while it was turned (not Pendergast, why would you think that?) and he adjusted it with a soft smile so it sat right. “You’re a difficult woman to get presents for. You don’t like flowers, you apparently don’t want _anything_…”  
“Well, I’m happy.” Bean shrugged. “But uh… there is _one_ thing only you can give me? Later, after dinner?”  
“_Oh_.” Pendergast grinned. “Of course, princess.”  
“Ha, you don’t have to be _that_ excited.” Bean bumped him gently with her shoulder. “It’s just a back rub.”

“You—what?” Pendergast asked, shocked into standing still.  
Bean turned to look back at him and laughed. “Oh man, your face… no, yeah, I still want to have sex.”  
Pendergast pulled her into an embrace. “Well, as long as I can satisfy you in _some_ way…”

They managed to stay out until the sunset, watching it fade into the sea. As they walked back to the castle, they noticed barrels of ale being rolled out—both into the castle courtyard, and into the town square.  
“What’s this?” Pendergast asked.  
“For the princess’s birthday.” One of the servants replied.  
“Orders from the castle.” Said another.

Bean shifted Emma. “…huh. That’s nice of my dad. Weirdly nice.”  
“I guess your cat’s implications were wrong.” Pendergast said.  
“’Ey, Bean, there ya are!” Zog called. “C’mon, Derek and I are waitin’ for you and Pen!”  
“This is so weird.” Bean muttered, but she carried Emma in anyway.

It was a small, private dinner—just the four of them, and Emma on Bean’s lap.  
“Derek, you’re old enough to drink wine now, right?” Zog asked. “Here, have some, you too Gast. I wanna give a toast, to Beanie. You finally pulled your life together, and now ya got… a sweet baby, a good man… I’m proud of you.”  
“Thanks Dad.” Bean raised her water glass as the men raised their wine glasses.  
“To you, Beanie.” Zog said.  
“To Bean.” Derek and Pendergast echoed.

Everyone sipped their drinks—the men the wine, and Bean her water. Like puppets cut on strings, all three men collapsed.  
“Dad?! Pen?! Derek?!” Bean got to her feet, frantically shaking all of them one handed. “Someone help!”

“No one’s coming, Bean.” A familiar voice said. “I had those two idiots I found in the forest order spiked ale into the courtyard, and the town…”  
Bean whipped around to face her mother. “What are you going here?! What’d you do to them?!”  
“I’ve come to collect you.” Dagmar said simply. “Don’t you remember the terms of our deal…?”

“You didn’t say what you did to them!” Bean snapped.  
Dagmar shrugged. “They’ll wake up soon. By then, you and I will be far away.”  
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Bean spat.  
Dagmar clicked her tongue. “Naughty, naughty, Bean. It’s not good to go back on your word.” Before Bean could stop her, Dagmar crossed to the other side of the table, where Pendergast was slumped. Dagmar pulled his head up by the hair, a knife appearing in her hand. “Come with me _now_, Bean.”

“Alright. Alright, just… don’t hurt anyone. Let me put Emma down.” Bean said.  
“You could bring her with you.” Dagmar tried to peer at the baby.  
“That’s not part of the deal.” Bean snapped.  
Dagmar shrugged. “Alright. In exchange, take out that knife I know you have in your boot and kick it over to me.”  
Bean did as she was told, kicking it under the table. Dagmar caught it with her own boot. “Now, put the baby down on the table. Do you have any notes anyone should find?”

“In my desk.” Bean rasped, laying Emma down gently. “There’s a note for Emma in case…”  
“You’re quite melodramatic, aren’t you? Ah, I suppose you get that from me as well.” Dagmar said, before whistling sharply. Her minions reappeared. “Put the letter in the princess’s desk on the table next to the baby after we’re gone. Make sure nothing happens to the baby in our absence, understood?”  
“Yes, mistress.” They chattered. And then they were gone, back into the shadows.

“So… back to the boat?” Bean asked.  
Dagmar shook her head. “Come on, away from the table, out the door. Don’t try to run, I’ll catch you.”  
“I know.” Bean said.  
Dagmar let go of Pendergast, and followed Bean out the door.

Bean tried to land a punch on Dagmar, who caught it—with her knife. Bean screamed, her hand throbbing.  
“Don’t get cute with me. I’m not a Viking, and you don’t need to have limbs for the crown.” Dagmar snapped.  
“You stabbed me!” Bean hissed.  
“You tried to attack me.” Dagmar said calmly. “It was self-defense. Aren’t you familiar with that? If you behave, I’ll fix your hand.”

“What, and you’re not worried about weeks on a boat with me again?” Bean snapped, cradling her hand to her.  
Dagmar laughed. “No, and not because I trust you—because we’re not taking a boat. I was able to draw transportation circles before I left last time, I just needed to be able to get back to Maru. And I have. Come along, to the bowels of the castle.”

Bean followed, mostly because Dagmar had an iron grip on her arm, and because she was increasingly surrounded by minions.  
They finally reached the basement, their path lit by torches that the dead-eyed creatures carried. Out of the corner of her eye, Bean saw a glint of armor. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“Believe me, I would like nothing more than to grind your knight into dust beneath my heel. But it’s the shit ones you don’t like.” Dagmar took a torch and gestured—and yes, lying there eyes and mouths open in horror, were Stryker and Bolt.

Bean shuddered. “Jesus, what’d you do to them?”  
“Ah, just a bit of light stabbing.” Dagmar shrugged. “They outlived their usefulness.”  
“What’ll you do to me once I outlive my usefulness?” Bean demanded.  
Dagmar patted her cheek. “It won’t come to that. Besides, if the ritual fails, I always need a new Jerry, since you turned the last one against me.”

Bean jerked away. “_No_.”  
“When has it been about what you want?” Dagmar asked, snapping her fingers. A minion appeared with a cloth, and in one fluid movement, she pulled the knife out of Bean’s hand, and tied the bandage around it. “Stop making faces, you know I didn’t hurt anything—your hand will be fine soon. Come.”  
Bean followed.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Dagmar called over her shoulder, trusting on her minions to press Bean behind her.  
“You’re the one who stabbed me in the hand in the first place!” Bean hissed. “I’m not _thanking_ you for anything!”  
“How about bringing you into this world?” Dagmar tried. “Or giving you time with your own daughter? My labour was just as long as yours, Bean.”

“You’re not touching Emma.” Bean growled. “I don’t care if-if I have to come back and haunt you as a ghost, or whatever! You’re not touching her!”  
“I’m _trying_ to find common ground.” Dagmar said. “I… you’re… imagine that you come back, and your daughter is your age. That your husband remarried.”  
“I… you don’t care about Dad the way that I care about Pen!”

“I don’t _need_ to, being replaced still hurts!” Dagmar screamed in frustration. “Wasn’t I good enough to at least wait a full year?!”  
“There was a war going on!” Bean huffed, defending her father’s marriage to Oona for the first time in her entire life.  
“A war that had been going on for a century!” Dagmar growled. “i… I thought you might understand me a bit better now. Holding your daughter to you the way that I did, going through hours of pain and confusion only to have… someone with your eyes looking back at you before she goes to sleep… I thought you might understand.”

“I’m not you.” Bean said. “And… I’m not feeling sorry for you. But I do understand that, and that’s why you’re not getting Emma if this doesn’t work.”  
“If this doesn’t work, I _won’t_ use the crown on her.” Dagmar huffed. “It might be more prudent for blood relations to have you carry any future children instead of going through it again myself. From what I understand, Emma was a far easier pregnancy than you…”

“No, no, no, go back to the ‘carrying future children’ part. That sounds _incredibly_ fucked up beyond the usual ‘woman has to have babies for her husband forever and ever’ part.” Bean said.  
Dagmar finally turned to her, and shrugged. “Cloyd, Becky, Jerry, they’re all dead. It’s just you and me and Emma left for the family—and I won’t hurt her. I’ll just raise her to be the queen that Maru needs, since I won’t live forever. You… if it doesn’t work, there are certain things that you can do to help me, and our family. You’re young. You’re strong. Your previous pregnancy went incredibly well. By all means, why would I subject myself to it again if it doesn’t work?” She shrugged again.

“You don’t actually think it’ll work, do you?” Bean whispered, horrified. “You just want to control me…”  
Dagmar waved her hand dismissively. “I _hope_ it will work. Centuries of our family selectively choosing who to wed, so that when the promised one was born, we’d be able to fit the crown… that it would _work_, that the promised one would actually come and repay our debt to Hell. And maybe it’s not you. Maybe I missed something—maybe we all missed something. I hope not, for your sake. But even if not, it’s not too big of a problem. Shut your mouth darling, you’ll only catch flies, and it shows off your teeth in a truly horrid way.”

“_Fuck_ you.” Bean hissed, moving to strike Dagmar again. Dagmar side-stepped her, and Bean fell… and landed in the temple in Maru. Dagmar appeared shortly behind her. One of those minions stepped forward with the crown—that awful crown—and Dagmar pushed it onto Bean’s head. “Great Old One… with this blood summoning, we bid you—rise!”

The world went white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Stryker and Bolt, you won't be missed. 
> 
> Pendergast is an unofficial policeman because the guards need something to do besides train for war. This was briefly touched upon when he was tlaking in chapter 11 (?) about how husbands kept 'mysteriously' falling on knives, it's kind of his job to investigate this stuff in an official capacity. 
> 
> His new problem is when he tries to interrogate someone, i.e. the potato bandits, sometimes they'll ignore him in favor of talking to Bean. Admittedly, this works somewhat better than actual interrogation, because people are a lot more open to 'how've you been' instead of 'what criminal activities have you committed recently, citizen?' Talking to the friendly princess with a baby is better than talking to the scary dude in plate mail glaring at you. 
> 
> Next chapter is actually going to be a one-shot (making this a series) because I'm a stinker.


	19. A little bit of horror for y'all

“Wh-where am I?” Bean asked, looking at her hands. “Am I on drugs? No, no drugs, Emma… am I… did it work?”   
**_“Well, that depends. What were you trying to achieve?”_** A voice echoed around her and… from her? It wasn’t her voice though, it sounded like the crashing of waves on the shore.   
“I wasn’t—my mother was trying to put this weird crown on me. Something about a debt to Hell.” Bean twisted around, trying to find the voice in the void. “Where are you?”

**_“An easier question would be; where aren’t I?”_** The voice sounded amused. **_“The ironic thing about that debt was that it never promised the crown-wearer, and it never promised… well, anything. There have simply been a tide of souls trying to collect on a deal they should have been more patient for. The debt is fulfilled—because there never WAS a debt. It was more of a long-term investment on Hell’s part in the family. Understood?” _**

Bean looked down. “Hey, my hand’s okay.”   
**_“It’s easier to talk to you when there aren’t such things as pain involved. So, you have my power now, daughter of Camilla. What will you do with it first?” _**  
Bean bit her lip. “What about the family curse?”   
**_“Ah, that’s the investment part. What about it?” _**  
“Can-can it be broken?”

**_“Oh yes. A wise choice indeed—there are two who now carry it, and you’re directly related to both of them.” _**  
“Who?” Bean asked.   
**_“The one that you refer to as Emma has it, though she doesn’t realize it yet. Breaking the curse would be more than simple enough for her. The one you call Dagmar… she’s lived with it for so long, Tiabeanie. The weight of her actions would come crashing down on her.” _**  
“Good.” Bean said firmly. “You—you heard the stuff she was saying to me, right? And—and I have to protect Emma.”

**_“I did hear, yes. And you don’t have to justify yourself to me. I am only lending you my power—it’s yours to do with as you will. Dagmar actually managed to tap into it with her spell circles, perverting MY followers to her cause…” _**The voice grumbled.   
“Wait, wait, those creepy guys are yours?” Bean asked.   
**_“Ours.” _**  
“I’m married.”

**_“And you’re related by blood to me. I’m not interested in a romantic partnership Tiabeanie, I am simply interested in partnership and companionship. I would not take the place of your ‘Pen’ and you would not take the place of my Camilla.” _**  
“Okay, good, just so we’re clear on that.” Bean said, before hesitantly asking, “What do you mean she tapped into your power?”   
**_“Always coming back to the important things later, are we?” _**The voice asked, amused again. **_“She threaded my power from my followers through the circles to keep them consistently active. In doing so, she accidentally displaced actions—your brother saw things as they should be, your husband felt the inherent wrongness of not following the path after it was trying to correct itself—he has some Sidhe blood, actually, but that’s a different thing—” _**

“Wait, wait, you mean I… Derek was actually supposed to kill me?!” Bean asked.   
**_“Well… it was more Odval than your brother, but yes. He was meant to try. There was a trial and everything.” _**  
“And—and… what did Pen do?”   
**_“Tiabeanie…” _**The voice sounded so sad. **_“It was a different timeline.” _**

“What did he do?” She repeated.   
**_“He stood by and did nothing—worse than nothing, he helped imprison you.”_** The voice admitted. **_“But he was not your husband, and I have every reason to believe that he wouldn’t now—”_**  
Bean felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. “And when Derek was lighting the pyre, what did he do then?”   
**_“He wasn’t there, if that’s what you’re asking. And I never would have let you die—you’re my chosen vessel, remember?” _**The voice tried to sound light-hearted.

“This is a _lot_ to take in.” Bean said. The world shifted around her—she was back on the walls of Dreamland’s castle, looking out at the sea. She looked down at her hand—still untouched. Still a weird… not dream, but whatever this was.

**_“How about we start with the basics? Snap your fingers, and think about lifting the curse.” _**The voice suggested. Bean closed her eyes and snapped her fingers. When she opened them there was a red string crumpled in her hand in a bow. She pulled it loose. “That’s it?”   
**_“That’s it, when you’re tapped into my power. …fair warning, Dagmar may start screaming when you reawaken. Time isn’t passing out there, by the way.” _**  
“Okay, so I’ve got all the time in the world.” Bean sat down on a rampart.

**_“Mm… at a certain point, I will get drained, but… we shouldn’t reach it now.” _**  
“So what do I do with all the unimaginable power in the world?” Bean muttered to herself. “I could… fix Cremorrah. Or Maru.”   
**_“A snake-based economy does seem like a bad decision overall.” _**The voice agreed. **_“But… some problems you need to fix through diplomacy, and actual rulership. Maru’s been essentially rudderless for years. And… once we exit this, you’ll have to deal with the choices made here. I let the spell circle lapse, and I might be resting for a while after this. I’m not a catch-all, Tiabeanie.” _**

“What, so I’m stuck in Maru?!” Bean panicked.   
**_“Boats still exist.” _**The voice laughed. **_“You haven’t lost them forever, they might just have to wait a bit for you. You can use the time to start making structural changes to Maru as well, if you want. Bring back people from Dreamland? I’m not of this place, and you barely are, but someone has to take care of them.” _**  
“God, there are so many responsibilities with this.” Bean muttered. “Um… so how do we fix Maru?”   
**_“Well, I try to make it a point to avoid messing directly with people’s minds, so they’ll still… remember. But they’ll awaken, and using coinage instead of snakes will make sense to them. I was also thinking we could try and create a siren call for traders?” _**The voice suggested hesitantly.

“Okay, wow, you’re a lot more prepared for this than I am.”   
**_“I am ageless. I’ve had a lot of time to think about Maru since last we visited.” _**  
“Um… so close my eyes and snap my fingers again?”   
**_“Twice.” _**  
“Okay.”

She closed her eyes and snapped her fingers once. She opened them hesitantly, and there was a golden snake ring in the palm of her hand. **_“Put it on. It’ll cement your authority.” _**The voice urged. **_“Coins are appearing now bearing the snake of Maru on one side and your visage on the other.” _**  
“It seems like you’re doing most of the work.” Bean put it on her right hand’s ring finger.   
**_“You’re the focus for powerful, primordial magic. I assure you, you could do this without me, but I am a… control. Otherwise, you would… well, let’s not go there.” _**  
“No, tell me.” Bean said. “I can take it.”

The voice seemed to hesitate, before the walls of Dreamland’s castle collapsed in on themselves, turning into the temple in Maru. Two figures appeared out of nowhere—Dagmar huddled on the floor, and Bean—glowing, levitating, the crown still on her head as her mouth opened in a wordless scream.   
“Bean?” Fake Dagmar called. “Bean, can you hear me?”   
“WhO’s xXxX?” A horrible mixture of her voice and the voice she’d been hearing asked, quiet as a whisper, somehow louder than thunder. She couldn’t hear her name, it sounded like waves crashing on the shore.

“Bean?” Dagmar called again, before the name once again faded into waves. Dagmar looked shocked.   
“ShE’s GoNe NoW.” The horrible mixture promised. “jUsT lIkE yOu WaNtEd. I’m RuNnInG tHe ShOw NoW.” Bean’s—fake Bean’s—white hair began to turn inky black fading into a blue green at the roots, her eyes were no longer glowing, they were covered by a black film as well. Bean—real Bean—swore she could see tiny creatures swimming in the back of them, as though those eyes were the deepest ocean. Her skin paled, the colour of her veins turning to the same salt and seawater instead of the blood inside.

The creature landed, and water pooled underneath it. Now when it spoke, seawater, tiny creatures, bits of kelp and coral washed out of its mouth as well as words. It slowly, slowly turned its head to look at real Bean. “SaTiSfIeD nOw, TiAxXxXiE?” The ‘Bean’ of her name was still waves, beginning to erode the rest of it.   
“Yes, turn it off!” Bean screamed, shutting her eyes.

When she opened them, she was back in the white void.   
**_“I’m sorry.” _**The voice said. **_“It… you understand now, why I need you as a focus? I don’t want to go back to that either.” _**  
“Back? You’ve done that before?” Bean demanded.   
**_“…I wanted… to BE with Camilla. As a human. I took a human form—it looked… it looked like that. She somehow wasn’t scared. But she kept me from crashing my wrath on neighboring areas, on… other people. She calmed the storms. No Camilla, no granddaughter to use as a focus… it wouldn’t be pretty.” _**

“Granddaughter?” Bean said. “Whoa, whoa, Beebaw’s husband disappeared, but you—”   
**_“Hmm? No, not in the way you expect. But my blood is not diluted. You are half me, as is your father, as was Lavinia—the one that you refer to as ‘Beebaw’. It’s how I survive now, in the blood of my descendants. You still have to snap for Cremorrah.” _**  
“Oh, right.” She closed her eyes and snapped her fingers again. When she opened her eyes, she was holding a small sand structure in her hand. She crushed it. “Um, what about the fact that they’re buried in sand?”

**_“Good thought.”_**   
Once again, she closed her eyes and snapped her fingers, this time before the voice had told her to. She opened her eyes once again, holding a child’s shovel in her hand. She picked up the sand off of the floor of the void. “So… I don’t need you as a guide, do I?”   
**_“Not really, no.” _**The voice admitted. **_“I can leave if you want, but I honestly like being able to speak again after 500 years.” _**  
“Nah, it’s fine, I like the company.” Bean said, sweeping extra sand onto the shovel and then tossing it over her shoulder. “So, that stuff I did with time that Derek noticed, was that you, or me?”   
**_“Both. Why do you ask?” _**

Bean bit her lip. “What… made Dagmar this way? And Pendergast’s never gonna tell me about his family, and… there’s stuff I want to know.”   
**_“…does this tie into the other timeline, where he would have let you…?” _**The voice asked hesitantly.   
“No!” Bean said. “I just… I want to see.”   
**_“…Let’s start with Dagmar. Then you can decide if you still want to see your Pendergast’s history. Close your eyes, and hold out your hand…_**”

Bean did so. “And snap?”   
**_“Snaps are for changes. Open them._**” The voice commanded.   
Bean opened her eyes. In front of her was a huge tree, with detailed faces carved into it leading up—connected to one another. She looked up, and the canopy was so dense that it looked like one entity. She looked around the edge of the tree, and saw others, also reaching up to the canopy.   
“What is this…?” Bean asked.   
**_“Your family tree. Careful whose portrait you brush up against, it’s a easy way for you to see histories.” _**The voice said.

Bean knelt—and yes, there was a small portrait of her carved into the bark. It wasn’t one of her official portraits—it was a small scene of her, raising a tankard of ale and laughing. There were several lines, one golden to her left which branched off into a blue… and there was Emma. There was a dark line from the top that seemed to thrum with power—and it branched off into two again, the dark line following back to Zog, and a lighter one leading to a portrait of Dagmar. It wasn’t one of her official ones either, she had her hair down, a dressing gown on, and she was spinning a child around. Also laughing.

“Was that… me?” Bean asked, squinting at it.   
**_“Yes.” _**The voice replied. **_“She did love you, once.” _**  
Bean brushed her fingertips against it, and everything began to warp and shift. The portrait began to glow, and become larger and larger, until the portrait was so large and the light so bright that everything else was gone.

Bean shut her eyes instinctively, and opened them to a baby’s wail.


	20. The Tale of Dagmar

She had been born to opulence.

Of course she had. She was the eldest child of the king of Maru, the product of an arranged marriage that had turned to love. Her mother gave her her own mother’s name—Dagmar’s dear, sweet, Danish mother with platinum blonde hair, another pawn to create the Chosen One. Her parents didn’t believe in the Chosen One, but they believed in each other, and their darling daughter. She had the run of the palace on her own until she was three, and Cloyd was born.

“You must always protect him, little dove. He’s your baby brother.” Her father said, carrying her into her mother’s lying in chamber. And her dear sweet mother looked so pale, and so tired, and this small thing looked so red. She poked it, experimentally, and Cloyd screwed up his face, ready to cry.   
“Can I have a sister instead?” Dagmar asked. Perhaps a sister would be more interesting.

Her parents laughed.   
“Maybe next time.” Her mother said.   
“Next time?” Her father asked.   
“He was no harder than the last. Next time.” Inge promised her husband.   
He kissed his wife, not that Dagmar noticed. The baby had opened his eyes, and was holding her finger. He would be a good minion, she decided then and there. He wouldn’t take the crown that her father had promised her.

Within a year, Dagmar got her sister. Dagmar always got what she wanted. This one was good too, she supposed. Inge named this one ‘Rebecca’, after her grandmother. Both were just babies, but they grew, and they followed her around incessantly. Inge and Roderich were so pleased to have children that got along so well. Dagmar later supposed that was why they decided to have Jerry, when she was ten, Cloyd was seven, and Becky was six.

She didn’t see it that way at the time, though. Why would they need another baby? They had her, and they even had Cloyd and Becky.   
She huddled with her siblings in a closet as they heard their mother scream in labour, and their father rush around, trying to find them.   
“Are either of you actually excited for this new baby?” Dagmar asked, lifting her chin high.

Cloyd and Becky knew there was a right answer and a wrong answer.   
“No?” Becky tried.   
Dagmar nodded firmly. “Right. They’re going to replace all of us, you’ll see.”   
“Will they?” Cloyd asked, wide eyed. “Why?”

“Because they’re fools, Cloyd! Dangerous fools!” Dagmar hissed.   
“Why are they dangerous?” Becky asked. “They’re Mama and Papa—”   
“You _idiots_, what do you think will happen once they’ve replaced us? They’ll need to get _rid_ of us.”   
Cloyd and Becky exchanged a worried look, then nodded. Dagmar didn’t steer them wrong.

Dagmar couldn’t have known that the certainty behind her words was the curse curling around her mind. Foolish Inge and Roderich had believed that it had finally died out in their blood—after all, Dagmar was the perfect little lady, and the perfect queen in training—look at how she led the others! But Dagmar also had a mind like a steel trap, and was a natural born leader, two excellent traits… except in the hands of the cursed members of the family.

She smoothed her skirts, opened the door to the closet, and ushered them out. “Here, Papa.”   
Roderich pulled to a stop in front of them. “There you are. Come, your mother’s almost done—you’ll have a new sibling soon!”   
Dagmar smiled. “How wonderful, Papa.”

Her father carried a small, ceremonial knife almost all the time. Dagmar nodded at Cloyd, then at the knife. Slowly, he slipped over, and removed it from their father’s belt as Dagmar spoke. “What will you name the baby, Papa?”   
“Oh, Dagmar, you know that already.” Roderich laughed. “Are you worried, little dove?”   
Dagmar smiled. “Oh, Papa, I’m not worried at all.”

Cloyd handed her the knife as Becky asked, “Are you worried Papa? Mama sounds like she’s in a lot of pain.”   
“Ah, my little robin, that is the way of life.” Roderich picked Becky up. “You will one day struggle through the same thing, as will your sister. It was because of the sin in the garden you know, that God cursed Eve to be in labour painfully—and all women after her.”

Dagmar folded the knife into her skirts. “Would it help if we were there, Papa?”   
“No, little dove. She must focus on the new baby now.” Roderich smiled. “Cloyd? You’re so quiet.”   
“I’m worried about Mama.” Cloyd said softly. “I know it’s the way of life, but I’m… I’m scared. I don’t want her to die.”   
Dagmar clenched her hand around the knife. They _would not_ betray her, not now, or she’d kill them too.

“Ah, little crane. Everything will be alright, you’ll see.” Roderich ruffled Cloyd’s hair. “Your mother is strong.”   
Inge was strong. Strong enough to survive the birth—not that Roderich knew that. While she was sleeping, Dagmar crept into the room. There was already blood everywhere, what was some more?

“Dagmar…?” Inge called sleepily. “What are you doing here?”   
And with the little knife she’d stolen from her father, Dagmar stabbed her mother through the roof of the mouth. Officially, Inge succumbed to childbed fever—Dagmar was almost methodical about ensuring that. What she _wasn’t_ methodical about was giving into the sappy side of her, and deciding to let the baby live.

She cleaned the knife on her dress, then stole away down to the basement. Roderich had locked it up years ago—his family’s legacy was considered terrible for him. Not for Dagmar—she felt the pull to go and see the painting. She picked the lock. Dagmar, all of ten years old, blood dripping off of her dress, stared up at the painting. That would be her daughter—she’d make sure of it. Being the mother of the Chosen One was a quick way to power, wasn’t it? Quicker than what she already had. After all, don’t children love their mothers?

She memorized every line of the Chosen One’s face. What an ugly daughter she’d have. Then she laid the knife down on the altar, and pulled her stained dress over her head. She burned it to ashes there, in that room, before going back to bed.

She feigned shock and dismay when Roderich came to her and her siblings, ash-faced with red eyes, and said that Inge had passed during the night. That they must treasure Jerry now, for he was the last gift that their mother gave them.

Dagmar paid lip service to this idea in public, and in front of Roderich—but made it clear to the others that in private, Jerry was meant to be shunned. They didn’t disagree, partially because they could see that Jerry was indeed a threat. He was Roderich’s favorite now. Becky learned that the hard way when she ran to her father, face red with rage over Jerry breaking her doll, and Roderich did nothing. Cloyd and Becky grew closer to Dagmar—she would solve all their problems, and what she wouldn’t, the Chosen One would.

Roderich began to shut himself away—what was life without Inge? Dagmar stepped easily into the power vacuum, dedicating Cloyd and Becky to arcane knowledge in the library. They would practice at night, magic thrumming through all of them—and in the day, Cloyd and Becky would look for the whereabouts of the one who would give her the Chosen One.

Five years passed, and one night as Dagmar was making her way back to the painting, she heard a voice calling her. “Dagmar…”   
“Who’s there?” She turned on her heel. “Show some respect to your princess!”   
“Dagmar… it’s me…” She heard from the shadows. “Don’t you know my voice…?”   
“Show yourself!” Dagmar hissed.

She saw what looked like her mother, dressed in the white shift that she died in, melt out of the shadows into her torch’s light.   
“No—no! I killed you!” Dagmar screamed.   
“I forgive you…” She heard Inge sigh. “I forgive you, Dagmar…”   
“Well… good! I don’t need you—and I don’t need your forgiveness!”

The ghost melted away into the shadows again. “You will…”   
Dagmar hurried away, promising never to tell anyone what she saw that night. Around that time, Roderich began getting himself together. He began eating dinner with his children again—and it set Dagmar on edge. Inge must have told him. He knew—and he was waiting to kill her.

Well, she’d kill him first. She revisited the altar—and at fifteen, she was incredibly conscious of her appearance. The Chosen One—her daughter?—looked more and more like her. She instinctively pursed her lips so as to hide her teeth—she didn’t have ugly teeth like that, did she? She shuddered, looking up at it. Everything she ever thought was wrong with her was laid out in the painting above. This time, she grabbed the knife and ran out of the room, to Roderich’s bedroom. She pushed open the door—and there he was, slumped over his desk.

“Inge?” He called sleepily. “Inge, is that you…?”   
It wasn’t tight and methodical the way she killed her mother. She stabbed him in the stomach, over and over, then stood, trembling, as he collapsed. She stood as he fell, and blood pooled all around him, and she stood until Cloyd and Becky came and fetched her, and washed her up and put the knife back. They seemed relieved—as if the way she had killed Roderich meant she hadn’t killed Inge. Maybe they knew something she didn’t.

They burned the dress, just as she had years ago.   
“Dagmar?” Cloyd called as she stared at the fire. “Dagmar, we think we’ve found the family that carries the blood we need.” She felt him shake her gently.   
“I need to go.” She finally said. “I need to find this blood for myself.”   
“No!” Becky said quickly. “Dagmar, we need you!”

Dagmar shook her head. “Not… right away. But soon. Cloyd should be crowned instead of me.”   
Cloyd and Becky exchanged a worried look. This wasn’t the plan at all.   
Dagmar went to her bedroom to sleep, and Cloyd and Becky stole into Jerry’s bedroom. Maybe he could be the Chosen One. Maybe it was enough.

It wasn’t. Dagmar was initially furious when she realized what they’d done, using the crown on Jerry, but then it ebbed into something just as warm. They just wanted to keep her near—and anyway, it was just Jerry. He was less of a threat now.

Since she’d been running the kingdom more or less since Inge’s death, Roderich’s death didn’t change much. She was just inflicted to more paperwork, more real decisions. It thrilled her. Cloyd and Becky continued their magic training—they gathered specimens in the basement, imbued a dress of hers with irresistibility, turned Cremorrah to stone—and they still weren’t prepared when five years passed, and Dagmar was ready to present herself to the younger brother of the heir to Dreamland.

“Do you… have to go?” Becky wiped at her eyes. “Can’t he come here?”   
“No, I’m not going to let him know anything about us.” Dagmar said, before pulling Cloyd and Becky into a hug. “I can’t risk any upset to the plan.”   
Becky, all of sixteen, openly bawled into her sister’s shoulder.   
“It’ll be alright. I have Odval.” Dagmar said, waving at her companion on the ship. “I won’t be alone, and I’ll try to write when I can, alright? Take care of Maru.”

“We will.” Cloyd promised. Cloyd lied, not that Dagmar knew it then.   
She sailed to Dreamland, acquired Bunty as a lady’s maid, and presented herself as the daughter of a foreign nobleman to Zog. It was almost pitiably easy to become his bride. It was even easier to poison Yog, so that her husband would become king of Dreamland after his mother croaked.

Tiabeanie was the one thing she treasured in that time. Her baby. Her ugly baby. Her baby _switched the cups_, oh God… and when she woke up, she no longer had a baby. She had gone to sleep at 24, and woken up to a daughter her sister’s age. Her sister, when she finally got home with a baby who wasn’t her baby, said that she went by Rebecca now. Cloyd, who hadn’t risen Maru from the ashes of Cremorrah—they were barely better off.

And then Bean had killed Cloyd and Becky, more Dagmar’s children than Bean herself, had tried to kill her through her inaction… and here we were. Her ugly baby matched the painting, but she didn’t wear dresses—was she even really the Chosen One, or just a step that Cloyd and Becky had missed? Maybe her granddaughter—her baby now, if it didn’t work, and it didn’t hurt the way it did when she thought about her daughter—maybe Emma was the key? Maybe, maybe, maybe…

Bean pulled back from the tree with a gasp. “That… was Inge’s ghost real?”   
**_“No. It was a delusion of the curse.” _**The voice said sadly. **_“Well… with a bit of us bleeding through.” _**  
“I don’t forgive her.” Bean snapped.   
**_“But you have white hair, don’t you? Like your mother, and her mother?” _**The voice shrugged. **_“She saw you, and she handled it the only way her mind could. It was meant to happen.” _**

“She said she killed her parents when she was my age.” Bean whispered.   
**_“No, but she did… kill their memory in a way. Your birth, her fabricated identity, Cloyd and Rebecca’s actions… they were forgotten by the time that you were born. Memory is more to her than flesh and blood.” _**

Bean snorted. “Isn’t that the truth.” She followed the line leading down to Emma, the other parent branching off onto another tree. And then she realized that it wasn’t a line, but a thread, wrapped around the tree so that when she moved to see Pendergast, he was right on the other side.

His portrait was him grinning at someone from the ground—someone also on the ground.   
“Was this from when I…?” Bean tried.   
**_“Yes.”_**   
“What was it before?”   
**_“Fighting in the Crusade—saving the life of his king.” _**  
“He never mentioned that.” Bean said softly, fingertips brushing the portrait. As before, it grew, and became brighter, and brighter…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of two chapters that got a name in the draft. The other is up tomorrow. 
> 
> I know that the wiki says Mariabeanie was Bean's maternal great-grandmother (i.e. her mother's mother's mother's mother) but that doesn't jive.   
'Why do people in the portraits have white hair if they're not where Bean and Dagmar got it from?' I hear you ask. It was a fashion statement-- being closer to the chosen one, through bleaching hair and wigs.


	21. The Tale of Sir Pendergast

He wasn’t born into opulence.

He was born in a small, crumbling keep, on the edge of what would be Wales if such things as Wales or England still existed, just inside the border of Dreamland.   
“You’ve been quiet about what you want to name him for some time now, woman.” A gruff voice said from the doorway.   
Lynette shrugged. “I want to call him Pendergast.”

“Ha! One son Thomas, the other son _Pendergast_?”   
Her eyes slid over him like water off of a duck. “I want some semblance of my maiden name left, husband.”   
“If you say so.” He snorted. “Let me see him then.”

Lynette gently passed her baby to her husband. “He’s not a warrior yet.”   
Pendergast began to cry, and the man chuckled. “Yes he is, hear those lungs!”   
Lynette shook her head slowly, and a small shape darkened the door. “Can I come in now?”

Lynette nodded softly, and a small shape came barreling towards the bed. “Careful!” Lynette said.   
“Ah, you’ll make the boy soft.” Pendergast’s father spat, handing the baby back to Lynette. “Here.”

“You have a brother, Thomas.” Lynette said softly.   
“When can I play with him?” Thomas immediately asked.   
Lynette laughed gently. “Not for a while yet.”   
“He will still be a babe at his mother’s breast.” The father grunted in agreement. “Come, boy. We have to train.”

Lynette shook her head slowly. “This one will be mine…”   
This was more easily said than done. Pendergast toddled after his older brother and his father whenever available, which his father seemed to like. “He has the spirit of a warrior, boy!”   
Thomas glared at Pendergast, and pushed him down in the dirt when their father wasn’t looking. Pendergast went running to his mother, who sat him on her lap and cuddled him, and told him stories.

And then she died, giving birth to a sister, who died as well.   
And then he was alone with a father constantly trying to live up to his own elder brother, who was living up to their father. And Thomas, who wanted nothing more than to be the favorite at any cost.

When Pendergast was seven, Thomas pushed him down a well. He broke his leg, and no one answered his cries for days. He had to crawl out on his own, covered in dirt and half-dead. By the time he was home, his grandfather had died. His uncle was now lord of the manor, and his father was angry, and jealous.

The best way to survive was to fight for it. So he did. He didn’t care if he beat Thomas now, he didn’t care if his uncle said he was a little savage, just like his father. He was twelve when Odval came to visit his uncle for some reason—tax purposes, actually—and accidentally came across him and Thomas brawling.

“What is going on here?” Odval asked drily.   
“The little savages are fighting again. Their father encourages it—come.” The uncle said.   
Odval forcibly separated the boys. “Come now, not while I’m in the room. Such _disgusting_ sounds you made…”   
Pendergast spat at Odval’s feet, then clarified, “I don’t want his blood in my mouth.”   
“From what your lord says, you don’t seem to have much choice.” Odval replied drily. “And who are you?”

“I’m Pendergast ap Arwel ap Maredudd.” He shot back.   
Odval worked this out slowly. “If you ever go to court, you’re to present yourself as Pendergast of house Griffith.”   
“Why would I go to court?” Pendergast asked.   
Odval didn’t have a very good answer for this. “Why are you half-feral if you’re the grandson of the previous lord?”

“Since when does my uncle care what I do?”   
Odval pinched the bridge of his nose. “Excellent, I’ve found a child as mouthy and terrible as the princess. Oh, Tiabeanie would _love_ you, Pendergast ap Arwel ap Maredudd.”   
“Tiabeanie?” Pendergast repeated. “Who’s that?”

“The _princess_ of Dreamland—don’t you have any education?”   
“Of course I’m educated!” Pendergast huffed. “I can read, and write, and do sums! Grandfather made sure that we could all do that!”   
“Pendergast ap Arwel ap Maredudd, don’t you have any goals for yourself?” Odval asked. “I know you’re feral, and a child, but surely there must be _something_ you want.”

Pendergast looked around, then confided, “I want to be a knight. A great knight, like in the stories of King Arthur.”   
Odval raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? I don’t recall any of them looking so… dirty. I’ll tell you what, Pendergast ap Arwel ap Maredudd, I will relay all of this information to the king. And when I come back in two years, because it looks like your uncle will try to relapse on his taxes _again_ soon, I will see if you’re worthy of being a knight.”

“Really?” Pendergast gasped.   
Odval made a face. “Oh, stop looking at me like that. There is more to being a knight than rolling in the dirt and winning fights. You want to become a _true_ knight, like in the stories? Then read up on chivalry, on the virtues of knighthood.”   
“And then you’ll make me a knight?”

“You will _eventually_ become a knight.” Odval said. “_If_ you can manage this, and you can prove yourself to the king. Now… run along.” He made a shooing motion at Pendergast.   
Pendergast did indeed run along. He went to the library, and read every tale of knights he could get his hands on. Knights were brave, they defended the innocent. They stood up against evil. Well… what was evil? How could he fight it?

He did clean himself up a bit though, since someone cared now. Well, really, he pretended that Odval cared. His uncle, having noticed that the king’s advisor had spoken to his nephew, for whatever reason, encouraged Pendergast—mostly for his own ends, but still. Pendergast learned etiquette. Arwel didn’t care—his sons were allowed to do what they wanted now. They were near enough to men. Thomas was still jealous though, and went out of his way to ruin Pendergast’s efforts.

But Odval didn’t come back in two years. Fine, fine, Pendergast kept training, and reading, and fighting. He didn’t come back after three years, or four. By the fifth year, Pendergast was getting a bit… despondent. He’d just be here, forever, with Thomas and their cousins.

That was when the king arrived, Odval in tow.   
“Your Majesty, to what do we owe this honor?” Pendergast’s uncle said, bowing low.   
“I’m declarin’ a crusade.” Zog announced. “I want to take the kid as my squire… he’s about Beanie’s age, right Odval?”   
“I’m sure the cretins will be excellent friends.” Odval muttered.   
“Yeah.” Zog sounded sure of himself. So sure that Pendergast, all of seventeen, found himself back at the castle of Dreamland before a week had gone by, nicknamed ‘Gast’ because the king preferred it to his actual mouthful of a name.

As they rode in, a girl with white hair darted in front of his horse, causing it to shy up.   
“Here we go…” Zog muttered.   
“What—who are you?!” Pendergast demanded.   
“I’m Bean—who are you?” She shot back.   
“I’m the person who nearly ran you over!” He huffed, dismounting.

She scoffed. “But you didn’t.”   
Pendergast decided on the spot that she was the most infuriating person he’d ever met. Even worse than Thomas. He wisely kept this to himself, as she ran over to the king. “Dad!”   
“’Ey, there’s my Beanie!” Zog said.

She stuck out her tongue at Pendergast, who was so taken aback that he did the same reflexively. She was not like a princess from the stories. She was not dainty, or demure, or in need of rescuing. The next day, she followed him around the stables incessantly, excited to be near someone her own age—not that he recognized that, he thought she was just trying to annoy him. She had been sitting on the dividers, and he knelt beside his horse, used to checking for stones in the hooves.

She had been swinging her legs absentmindedly. “So, what do you do for _fun_?”   
“I’m not here for fun—” He turned his head unexpectedly. She kicked him in the face.   
Next thing he knew, he was on the ground, with her bending over him. “Oh my God, are you okay? Don’t tell my dad!”   
“…don’t stand behind the horse.” Pendergast muttered, before getting to his feet. Great, now he probably had horseshit in his hair. He glared at her, hearing laughter—but she looked worried. Who was laughing? It was probably in his head.

“But are you going to tell my dad?” Bean asked hurriedly. _“That’s really all he had to say…” _  
He looked around. “How are you doing that?”   
“What?”   
“Saying one thing… saying another at the same time!” Pendergast asked.   
Bean winced. “How bad did you hit your head?”

“No, it’s…” Pendergast bit his lip. “Look, I’m going to go get washed up. If I’m still hearing voices later, I’ll… go seek medical attention. I’ll say someone else hit me. You… just go away!”   
Bean shot him a hurt look, but did as she was told. She stayed away from him the whole time that he was training with the other men in Dreamland.

He was jumpy, especially after he’d let his guard down once and gotten knocked out because of it. Stupid. What if they thought he was weak? What if they sent him back? He purposefully didn’t look at the princess when they rode out of the castle to the dock to sail away.

Pendergast was not made for the sea. He spent half the trip below deck with a bucket as his closest companion. The armor he wore was a size too big, and he felt like he was boiling in it when they finally reached the place that they’d disembark.

It was a safe port in Iberia, held by invading crusading forces. In this timeline, the Abbasid Caliphate was still strong, and had expanded to cover most of Iberia. That’s why they were there _technically_, to defend Christendom. It didn’t really need defending, and it was very much a loose reason for kings like Zog (and Lorenzo I) to try and gain prestige.

Pendergast killed his first man within a month. Within a year, he’d killed others—it was hard to sleep at night, sometimes. Sometimes, he wished he would die here, die a hero like Gawain, Bedwyr, or Arthur. Die saying that he died for something _good_ and _right._ What was better than dying for a king?

In the heat of a siege, he saw an archer nock an arrow for Zog. He managed to throw himself in the way—the arrow pierced his eye. Pain took him—could he hear a woman scream? Who…?   
He woke up a week later to Zog sitting by his bed, and half of his vision gone.   
“Where am I?” He croaked.   
“We brought you to a local healer—these folks really know their stuff.” Zog tried to smile, but it fell flat.   
Pendergast reached up, and relaxed—they were bandages. He hadn’t lost an eye, had he?

“I uh… I thought you were gonna die there, kid.” Zog said. “Don’t scare me like that, huh?”   
“Sorry, sir.” Pendergast said.   
“Eh, don’t be sorry. You probably saved my life. You’re gonna have a nasty scar on your above-eye bone, y’know that?”   
“Well, at least I didn’t lose an eye.” Pendergast joked.

Zog’s face fell. “Look, Gast…”   
“No, no, I…” He tore at the bandages. He still couldn’t see. “_No_.”   
“Hey, hey, take it easy! That’s an order from the king.” Zog said. “You… well, at least you’re a knight now, and I was hopin’ you’d stay in the castle when we head back.”   
“We… I’m ready to go back and fight.” Pendergast said quickly.   
Zog shook his head. “Kid, we’re packin’ up as we speak. We got it, it’s done.”   
“Oh.” Pendergast said softly, fiddling with his cuffs.

“C’mon, kid, we’re not leaving without you.” Zog said. “You saved my life, I’m not gonna forget that. You did somethin’ great, kid.”   
Pendergast grinned. “Thanks.”

He spent time on the ship home learning to come to terms with his injury, and training when he could. It didn’t change who he was. He was even prepared for if Bean ran in front of his horse again—he was a man now. He was _different_, and he’d be different from Arwel and Thomas and everyone from home.

Bean didn’t run in front of the horse this time. She stood in the doorway, and Pendergast was suddenly aware that she’d grown when he was gone. She was—was she an adult now too? She did run to her father, followed by Derek. She ignored him, the way he had ignored her.

Well, that was fine. For the next few years, he devoted himself to his work. He became the leader of Zog’s men, and he settled into his life. And whenever he saw her, it was easy to squash down the attraction—especially when she did things like vomit on his boots on her nineteenth birthday. But, oddly, he still felt… a somewhat exasperated fondness for her.

Pendergast had said that he only realized his feelings for Bean after the giant incident, and that was true, in a way. He realized that he’d probably die doing it, and that he was only mildly okay with that because it was doing something for _her_. In all honesty, the definitive moment that he was struck by Cupid’s arrow, not that he realized it, was when he was laid up with a sprain for a day so that he didn’t make it worse. Bean had just turned nineteen, and Pendergast was still twenty-one.

He was pissed off beyond belief at this show of _weakness_, and wasn’t able to concentrate on his book… when he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of white hair. He turned, and noticed the stable door was open. He set his mouth in a line, realizing that Carrots would only be more ornery the next day without exercise.

And then Bean reemerged, with the horse. This time went better than the incident she’d admitted to him when she was twelve. Partially because she had actually put the saddle on the horse this time, partially because she hadn’t _leapt_ onto Carrots’ back and bothered him. Pendergast watched as she cantered out of the castle yard, obviously pleased with herself.

And she looked so happy. He found himself wishing that she’d take the horse wherever she was going, if only she’d _stay_ so happy. And he had to admit, he loved the sound of her laugh, echoing over the castle walls as the other knights chased her hither and yon. It was a lot funnier when catching her was Turbish and Mertz’s problem. However, Pendergast was a master of repression by this point, so he pushed down all these _inconvenient _feelings.

And then she was getting married, and for whatever reason, the thought made his heart hurt. He told himself that he was just used to picking her up when she was down, and that it was just a negative reaction to change… then he saw her in her wedding dress.

More specifically, he saw her walk down the aisle to Guysbert, and he saw her flee into the woods. He saw her on the party barge—and maybe he called the identity of their attackers wrong, but he had one eye—sue him… and even when his heart panged with fear or adrenaline, he just… always thought she’d be there. She challenged him like no one else did, and she was so _clever_, even if she just threw it all away—and why wouldn’t she? She didn’t have anything to do. She handled the Viking on her own, so quickly as well… and she thought he was _interesting_.

So, yes, he flirted with her, thinking she’d shoot him down, and then he’d go back to smushing down feelings that _didn’t exist_, since she was a _princess_ and he was lucky to be a knight in the first place—she didn’t shoot him down, though. Yes, there were issues—she left him hanging with the cliff at the edge of the world, her weird little elf friend died (and no, he didn’t give the order to shoot, but he guessed it might be Turbish), he was turned to stone…

Somehow, they both still ended up in the bar at the same time. Somehow, he ended up _married_ to her, even if he immediately had to ride out to defend Bentwood, home of Merkimer, who had _better_ appreciate it.

“Sorry about yer weddin’.” Zog said as they rode out and Pendergast willed himself not to look back at the castle, he had a job to do…   
“It’s fine.” Pendergast said gruffly. “It’s not like you called the Vikings to Bentwood. Why are we doing this again?”   
“Defense pact.” Zog shrugged. “It’ll break easily, you know the Vikings.”

It didn’t. Bentwood was nearly taken over, and the Vikings were able to take control of most of the town. And there—_there—_was that same fucking Viking from months ago, this time with a blonde woman at his side. They looked too similar not to be siblings, and she eventually disappeared, a ship leaving the vicinity.   
“Should we follow them?” Pendergast asked that night over the campfire.

“Nah, they’re not our problem.” Zog said.   
“What if she’s headed to Dreamland?” Pendergast asked.   
“What’re the odds of that?”

Incredibly high, as it turned out. A day later, they captured a man willing to talk.   
“We saw a ship leave, where’d it go?” Pendergast growled.   
The man spat a tooth at Pendergast’s feet. “Sven is still smarting over being beaten by that woman. The witch with white hair.”   
Pendergast knelt to make eye contact with the man. In a deadly quiet voice, he said, “And what does a man such as Sven do when he is beaten?”

“By a woman? Well…” The man ran his tongue over his remaining teeth. “I hear she’s beautiful. I also hear she’s spirited—but hopefully Magnhild will rob her of that before she warms Sven’s bed.”   
Pendergast punched the man in the gut almost reflexively, then got up off of the ground more calmly than he felt. He immediately went to his horse and began to saddle it.

“Gast? Where are ya goin’?” Zog asked behind him.   
“Bean needs me. The Viking—he wants—I need to make sure she’s okay!” Pendergast spat.   
“You’ll never be able to reach her in time if somethin’ _did_ happen. And this is about the Viking, yeah? The… big, blond one, up there? Holdin’ the Queen of Bentwood hostage ‘cause her castle’s under siege? She needs us more than Bean, Gast.”

“I don’t _care_ about Merkimer’s mother.” Pendergast huffed, tightening his saddle sharply.   
“I’m worried about my kids too, Gast. I’m just sayin’, that Viking you’re worried about? You can take him out before he ever gets to Bean.”   
“The things he said—” Pendergast protested, finally turning to face Zog.   
“He was trynna rile you up.” Zog growled. “And you’re just gonna fall for it?”

Pendergast shuddered. “If she gets hurt…”   
“If she gets hurt, I promise you can kill every damn Viking you find, and I’ll help.” Zog laid a hand on Pendergast’s shoulder, and gently squeezed. “Now put the damn horse away, and go get some sleep.”   
Pendergast put the horse away, but sleep was not so easy. He tossed and turned, his mind consumed with images of Bean being _hurt_…   
_“Oh, Pen…”_ He heard whispered on the wind. He bolted upright, looking around. Nothing.

“I must be losing it.” He muttered to himself, turning over.   
Every day, he’d fight himself to the point of exhaustion, mowing through as many men as he could. Every day, he’d try to fight Sven, who would clash against him then try to move away if there were too many Dreamlanders nearby. Until soon, he saw that he was fully up against Sven himself, mostly alone—and wasn’t that just what he wanted? Cut off the head of the snake, and all that.

Sword clashed against axe.   
“You seem familiar. Have I threatened you before?” Sven asked.   
“You threatened my _wife_.” Pendergast snapped. “And you’re not going to touch her!”   
“…I thought I killed the king of Bentwood…? But no, you are wearing Dreamland colours… the only Dreamland woman I’ve interacted with is the witch… ah, she tricked you into marrying her?”   
“She didn’t trick me into anything.” Pendergast snapped. “I’ve heard what your plans are for her!”

“Ah… well, if it makes you feel better, it’s more as a humiliation thing than a sex thing. I will do the same to the queen here.”   
“You’re a monster.” Pendergast growled.   
“I am a conqueror. This is what happens to women when men invade—and after I take Bentwood, I will take Dreamland… and your witch.”

Pendergast lunged for Sven, and fell on empty air. He rolled to recover, but Sven caught him with his foot. “Don’t worry, you’ll see her again soon.”   
Pendergast was about to shout something like, “Fuck you”, when he heard the _twang_ of an arrow being loosed.   
“Sorry!” Turbish called.

Sven and Pendergast both looked at the arrow sticking out of Sven’s arm, and since Sven was distracted, Pendergast pushed out from under him, getting to his feet and striking off his head in one blow. He held it up for the army to see.   
They surrendered quickly enough, and Queen Bunny exited the castle, her youngest son in tow. He was about three, if Pendergast had to guess. Three years old and apparently the king of Bentwood, now that Lorenzo I was dead.

“Thank you, sir, I don’t know what we would have done.” She gushed.   
“Uh… You’re welcome. I’m not qualified to talk to a queen—” Pendergast tried, because he just wanted to get _home_.   
“But you killed the Viking!” Bunny said, running a hand along his arm.   
Pendergast knew it was incredibly rude to pull your arm away from a queen, especially when you don’t necessarily mind if a princess does it. “Um… it was luck, mostly…”

“Such a brave knight.” Bunny cooed.   
Thankfully, Zog made his way over. “So, you’re in charge of Bentwood now, huh?”   
“Close enough.” Bunny’s eyes shifted to her son, who was picking his nose. “I might still need a new husband.”   
“Well, you can’t have Gast, he just married my daughter.” Zog said.

Pendergast was finally able to extricate his arm as Bunny’s smile turned to a glare. “Oh. Her.”   
“Yeah, and I was thinkin’ we could have that trade agreement that your brother and I were discussin’.” Zog said.   
Bunny smoothed her skirts. “Dreamland coming to Bentwood’s aid has been part of the defensive pact for two hundred years. We would have done the same for you—and yet you want more?”   
“We didn’t just come to your aid, we _saved_ you entirely. There’s not a single living Bentwood man out here. Honestly Bunny, you might need this trade deal more than we do.”

“Okay.” A tiny voice said.   
All three adults visibly startled, as the boy, who had moved onto watching bugs walk across the ground, picked himself up. “You want me to shine somethin’? I know how to write my name. Mama says that’s all I need to do for now.”

“Yeah. We just wanna take our army on your doorstep home.” Zog said softly.   
The boy nodded again, and went back to watching ants. Someone drew up a trade agreement quickly—maybe it was even the same one. That night, there was a bonfire to celebrate the end of the war. Pendergast sat by it—he had to be there, for his men, because he’d dealt the killing blow—but he spent most of his time staring into the fire and sipping his spiced wine.

Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe Sven had been right, and Bean was some kind of _witch_… but the last time that he’d heard her speak, she hadn’t seemed to know it was happening. Heh—maybe he’d never really recovered from her kicking him in the head… He was jolted out of his reverie by someone sitting down next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” A woman asked.   
“No—” He was about to rise, when she grabbed his wrist. He looked closer at the woman, and realized it was Queen Bunny, wearing a milkmaid’s outfit. “Your Majesty.”   
“Please, I’m just Bunny now.” She replied. “Sit.”   
He sat, and she took a pull of her own wine.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He tried.   
She laughed. “Which one? My beloved Guysbert? My darling Merkimer? Or do you think I married Lorenzo out of love?”   
“I wasn’t aware one could get away with marrying their sister out of anything _but_ love.” Pendergast muttered.   
“He wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any title claimants causing trouble after he died. And then we went and had three sons.” She shook her head. “That’s not why I’m here tonight.”

“Why are you here, then?” Pendergast asked.   
She shot a glance at him. “How long have you been fucking her?”   
“Our wedding night was interrupted by the announcement that the Vikings had attacked you.” Pendergast said frostily.   
She chuckled. “_No_. She rejected Guysbert out of hand; poor, sweet Guysbert, who deserved far better… come on, we heard about the sex scandal even here. It makes sense, she rejected my boys because she had someone else. I wish I’d been that brave.”

“We weren’t together then.” Pendergast said. “I… I only realized that I was in love with her after Merkimer was… no longer human.”   
Bunny glared at the fire. “Then why the fuck was Guysbert so beneath her that he had to die for it?”   
“She didn’t want to be a typical queen.” Pendergast pointed out. “She’s… she’s got so much spirit…”   
“I know she has _spirit_.” Bunny snapped. “Two of my sons were broken on the back of that _spirit_. I just wanted you to tell me that yes, you were fucking her long before we stepped foot in Dreamland, that she had a _reason_ for it all. That it’s why you went chasing off after her at the first sign of trouble. That she didn’t just decide no, I won’t kill this one, when her father demanded that she marry you.”

Pendergast’s mouth felt dry. “I’m sorry.”   
Bunny shook her head. “Sorry’s worth nothing to me now. You want to give me something worthwhile? Tell Merkimer he can come home now. Lorenzo’s gone—selfish bastard forgot our son the minute it was convenient.”   
“I’d be happy to do so.” Pendergast promised.   
Bunny’s smile turned sly. “And… I wasn’t joking earlier.”

Pendergast flushed. “I’m still married.”   
“And you’re still handsome.” Bunny leaned in close. “Do you know how long it’s been since I got fucked? _Really_ fucked?”   
Pendergast leaned away. “Um, I—I…”

“Relax, you look like I’m about to eat you alive.” Bunny cooed, before laughing. “I don’t have any tricks, the trick was to fuck you and get the leader of the army to leave, _rewarded_, before you thought too hard about helping us.”   
“I’m not the leader of the army.” Pendergast said quickly.   
“I didn’t count on Zog still leading troops.” Bunny muttered, taking a swig of her wine.

Pendergast tried to get up, and Bunny pulled him back down. “C’mon, _stay_. Just for tonight, she won’t know, will she?”   
Bunny giggled, and it became clear to Pendergast. “You’re drunk, your majesty.”   
“I’m just buzzed.”   
“You’re so drunk that you’re finding me attractive.”

“You _are_ attractive. Does your witch not say it?” Bunny leaned in close. “I’d fuck you right here, right now.”   
“Turbish! Mertz!” Pendergast called. “Escort the queen back to the castle. And for the love of God, don’t listen to anything she says.”   
“It’s not like we actually fucked.” Bunny muttered, drinking her wine in one gulp. “I’m not gonna tell ‘em anything.”   
“I was thinking more like you trying to jump them.” Pendergast said frostily.

Bunny laughed. “No, I have standards. What _has_ your witch been saying?”   
“Don’t talk about my wife. And this has nothing to do with her.”   
“I’ll talk about her if I damn well please, she killed my son!” Bunny screamed.   
“I’ll send Merkimer home.” Pendergast replied stonily.

And indeed, after returning home, kissing his wife and ensuring that she was okay, Pendergast eventually got around to telling Merkimer to go home. Partially because Merkimer seemed to be laboring under the misapprehension that they were _friends_. They were not friends.

“But you saved my mother!” Merkimer said, following Pendergast around the streets.   
“Please never mention that woman to me again.” Pendergast muttered. Louder, he said, “I was simply doing my duty.”   
“What about when you saved _my_ life?” Merkimer asked.

“I was simply carrying out the king’s orders.”   
“You _ran_.”   
“Bean would have been upset if her elf friend had died again.”   
“I know what you’re thinking—we’re meant to be enemies, since I was meant to marry Bean and you actually _did_ marry her. But rest assured, your marriage is safe while I’m this disgusting pig.” Merkimer pointed out.

Pendergast finally looked up from the list he was checking. “My marriage would be safe regardless.”   
“Ha, we all know how irresistible I was.” Merkimer gestured with a trotter.   
Pendergast raised an eyebrow. “She jumped off of a cliff to avoid marrying you.”   
“She fell.”

“She did not fall, I was just going to tell the king that she fell, because his daughter jumping off cliffs on my watch was a bad idea.” Pendergast turned back to the list. “Haven’t you also considered how you got a bachelor party that just _happened_ to drift into supposedly mermaid infested waters? And you just _happened_ to get free?”   
Merkimer sat down on the ground with a _thump_. “…oh my God, she was trying to kill me. Pendergast, your wife is a murderer.”

“Sure, point me towards a body, and I’ll arrest her.” Pendergast said absent-mindedly.   
“Did you just make a joke? Pendergast, this isn’t funny.” Merkimer whined. “She tried to kill the heir of Bentwood!”   
“Maybe you should leave town then.” Pendergast suggested.

“How do you know she won’t try to kill you?” Merkimer asked. “Maybe I should stay…”   
“Merkimer, she actually made it down the aisle to me. No fuss, no threats, nothing. I don’t know why your family thinks you need to weigh in on my marriage, but it’s _fine_. I want to be here, she wants to be here.”   
“What did Mummy say to you?” Merkimer asked.

Pendergast flushed. “That isn’t necessary to share.”   
Merkimer eventually got it out of him. When this happened, several townspeople turned their heads as Merkimer shouted, “She said _what_?!”   
Pendergast uncovered his ears. “She was drunk.”

“You didn’t act on it, did you? A woman alone like that, vulnerable…” Merkimer glared at him.   
“Of course I didn’t act on it! _Why_ would I act on it?!” Pendergast hissed.   
“Well, my mother’s tits are amazing.” Merkimer pointed out. “From an aesthetic view, of course.”   
Pendergast pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m _married_, I don’t generally go around checking out other women’s _breasts_. I’m not even going to touch on the last thing you said. Go home, Merkimer.”   
Merkimer trotted after him. “Is it easier to keep your eyes to yourself if you only have one?”

“Is it easier to peek up women’s skirts when you’re on the ground?” Pendergast snapped.   
“It is, actually.” Merkimer said pleasantly.   
“Leave me alone.” Pendergast huffed. “You are an influence I don’t need.”   
“_Saaad_. I thought we were friends.”   
“This entire conversation has been to get you to stop thinking that.”

Merkimer did eventually leave. Bean eventually had the baby, and Pendergast adored his daughter. She wouldn’t want for anything while he was around. He was finally happy.

And then he woke up to Emma crying, and he could hear faint echoes of Bean struggling. Not the kind of echoes where he thought he was losing his mind—she was somewhere in the castle. She needed him. He needed to get to her. But there was a moment of indecision—stay with Emma, or go after Bean?

He eventually chose his wife, but was it too late?   
_“It’ll be okay, Pen. I’ll be home soon.” _She promised on the wind.   
He ground his teeth. Not only was he losing his mind, but it was lying to him? He needed to get to her. He needed… he needed her.   
_“Take care of Emma while I’m gone, I have to clean up some of Dagmar’s messes.”_   
He collapsed to his knees. He couldn’t find her

_“I love you.” _  
“I love you too.” He promised the wind. And he thought for a minute, he could feel her hand on his shoulder.   
**_“You’re going to drive him insane if you keep trying to talk to him.” _**It sounded like the ocean crashing against the castle’s cliffs was forming words now. Okay.**_  
_**_“I have to let him know I’m okay!” _  
****_“The only reason he can hear you in the first place is because of Sidhe blood! Let him be—you saw what your interference did to Dagmar._”   
_“Hey! I didn’t do anything to Dagmar! It’s not my fault that she saw me!”_

“I can still hear you.” Pendergast pointed out. “And either I’m losing my fucking mind, because the ocean is talking now, or this is somehow… real.”   
_“…so remember when Sven and Bunny called me a witch? Well, they weren’t right, but they weren’t necessarily wrong either. Um, I’ll explain when I come home, okay?” _  
“If this is real, and it somehow… all worked out, then fine. I’m—I’m going to pretend it’s real.” Pendergast said to an empty corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the second chapter that go a name. 
> 
> Lemons grow really well in Spain. The crusades were OFFICIALLY to retake 'Christian' land, so it stands to reason that Europe would be more worried about non-Christianity in the actual continent than across the Mediterranean. Unofficially, the Crusades were a way to amass wealth and land, especially for knights in Pendergast's position, with relatively minor, somewhat poor families. Alas, twas not his fate. 
> 
> It's fucked up that Bunny and Lorenzo I just... _left_ both their sons there. Guysbert didn't get a proper burial, and Merkimer was more or less abandoned. They had to have had a back-up, right?


	22. I didn't really know what to do with Dagmar

**_“That was incredibly lucky.”_** The voice said to her as they returned to the tree.   
“I had to let him know I was okay.” Bean repeated. “He’d go crazy if he thought I was dying and he could save me. He couldn’t, but he’d still think it.”   
**_“Sounds like you have a true knight on your hands. Hopefully, he won’t turn to that queen of Bentwood in his grief.” _**The voice sounded like if it had eyes, it would be rolling them.   
“He wouldn’t.” Bean said firmly. “You saw him. And he knows I’m alive.”   
**_“Hmm. What do you have left to do here? What do you have left to fix?” _**

“I don’t know if I have anything left to do here. I want to go home soon. It feels like years have passed.” Bean shuddered.   
**_“You did just see about forty-odd years of thoughts and memories.”_** The voice pointed out. **_“Are you ready to see Dagmar again?” _**  
“I… yeah.”   
**_“I won’t be available for a while, Tiabeanie. But I will protect you.” _**  
“Thanks. Hey, since you’re not Beebaw’s husband, d’you know who was?”

The voice was silent for a minute, then said, **_“His name was Erik. He was a fisherman, with eyes like the sea and a smile like the sun. They weren’t supposed to be together—her father never worked out the father of Yog, and then she got pregnant AGAIN and refused to name the father… Erik died in a storm before she ascended to the throne.” _**  
“Wait, you killed him?” Bean asked.   
**_“Not intentionally!” _**The voice said quickly. **_“I’m… a lot more careful with storms near Dreamland and Dreamland boats now. Your Pendergast is safe. From me, I mean.” _**

“Thanks.” Bean said. “Um… I guess I’m ready to try this alone now.”   
**_“You won’t be alone. I’ll just be… sleeping. I’m sorry you’ll have to face Dagmar without my support.” _**  
“Wait a second—”  
**_“Goodbye, Bean. I’ll see you soon.” _**The voice yawned, and then Bean was blasted almost backwards, out of the forest, off of the castle walls, out of the white void—back into the temple.

Bean checked her hand—and yes, it was still bandaged. She pulled off the crown—the screws scraped her skin, but hadn’t pierced it. Miraculous, impossible, and somewhat plausible, given the Old One’s promises.   
Dagmar, meanwhile, had collapsed to her knees, and was screaming, staring at her hands.

“Mom, are you okay?” Bean asked.   
Dagmar’s attention snapped to her. “I killed them. I killed them all. I killed them all…” She began to curl in on herself, sobbing.   
Bean knelt next to her. “It’s… your mom said she forgave you, right?”   
“One of five does not mean they all forgive me.” Dagmar wept. “I can never wash the blood off of my hands.”

“Uh… what are you going to do?” Bean asked, biting her lip.   
“I don’t—I don’t know.” Dagmar whispered. Suddenly, her hands shot out and grabbed Bean’s. “What do I do?”   
“Uh… I don’t… I don’t know.” Bean admitted.   
“Do you want me around, Bean?” Dagmar asked, her hands gripping Bean’s harder.

“Uh... well, you know, that’s kind of a hard question…” Bean said. “I want my mom back. I want _a_ mom. But… I don’t think you can be my mom. You’re not much older than I am. What do you want to do with yourself, Dagmar? Now that there’s no prophecy, nothing like that…?”   
“I don’t know.” Dagmar whispered. “I don’t… I don’t… I can’t be here, I’ll go mad—”   
“Okay. Okay. Um… I don’t think Pen would want to run into you either.”

Dagmar shuddered. “If I never see another man again, it’ll be too soon.”   
“…I think I know what you can do, if you want to help me out.” Bean said. “How would you like to be an ambassador?”   
Dagmar frowned at her. “An ambassador? In my state?”   
“Ambassadors don’t have to do much, trust me.” Bean laughed. “Um… do you want to be my ambassador to Bentwood? The queen there doesn’t like me much, so you don’t have to talk about me, or anything. Or maybe you could, if you want to, you guys can bond over how I ruined your lives.”

“Is that really what you think?” Dagmar asked quietly.   
Bean blinked. “Er… yeah? I mean, she was hitting on Pen after finding out that he’s married—I know he’s hot and all, but she kept doing it. I think she kind of wanted to get back at me for her son’s death—long story—”   
“No. Do you really think you ruined my life?” Dagmar asked.

“I killed Cloyd and Becky. I lifted your curse, that’s why you have all these feelings.” Bean pointed out. “I… you had to marry Dad to get me.”   
Dagmar gently touched Bean’s face. “Marriage to Zog was worth it because I had you. My precious child… you mean more to me than you know. Even without the curse… yes, Cloyd and Becky are dead, but that’s my fault. I… I led them to their deaths, I led them down this path years ago.”

She gave a hiccupping sob, and wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “You are the single best thing that ever happened to me, and I love you so much. Never forget that, Tiabeanie. You want me to go to Bentwood, and win over their queen? I will.”   
“Thanks, Mom.” Bean leaned into the hand. “Just… thank you. And I’m sorry, for sending you away so quickly.”

“It’s better this way.” Dagmar agreed. “I… I need to get away. I need to find out who I am.”   
Bean pulled her mother in for a quick hug. “Um… before you leave, can you see if there’s anything I need to rule…?”   
“No—you need to learn. I will watch, and I will step in, but that’s exactly how we got in this mess.” Dagmar hissed. “Go. You lead, you’re the queen now.”

“Jesus, I was not expecting any of this when I woke up this morning.” Bean muttered. They returned to the palace, and Dagmar watched. She watched as Bean drafted a new law, creating a port authority and tariffs of goods, she watched as Bean figured out Maru’s exports, stepping in only to pull Bean aside and give her a quick economics lesson. She watched as Bean hired on new workers in the castle, and sent someone to Dreamland. She watched Bean manage Maru’s natural resources, and she watched Bean send tentative envoys to Cremorrah.

She watched, and she packed. She was taking everything with her this time. In her spare time, she showed Bean the castle—properly, the way it deserved to be seen. She stopped outside the master bedroom, hands shaking. “That’s… that was my parent’s room. It is yours now.”   
“Oh. Okay. Thank you for showing me.” Bean said quietly.

Dagmar shook her head. “I’m not going in there.”   
Bean nodded once, then opened the door. “Ugh, it smells terrible.” She went in anyway, carrying a torch. Dagmar heard the sound of curtains opening, and then she heard Bean exclaim.   
“What? What was it?” Dagmar called.   
“Uh… nothing. Don’t come in. To see the nothing.” Bean said quickly.

Bean had discovered Roderich’s skeleton, crumpled on the floor. She poked her head out. “Um… I’m just going to have someone clean that. Because of the smell. Probably a rat, or something…”   
“He was never buried, was he?” Dagmar asked. “My father?”   
“Ha ha, what? No.” Bean lied badly. “Please don’t start crying.”   
Dagmar started crying.

Roderich was buried the next day, next to Inge. The room was given a thorough cleaning.   
Dagmar left for Bentwood shortly after the funeral.   
Two weeks later, Bean herself sailed for Dreamland.

When Dagmar stepped off of the boat in Dreamland with the ambassador that Bean had sent there, they were greeted by Dreamland’s knights.   
Dagmar pushed the little monster out in front. “Well, I think this is your purview. I have to travel overland to my post.”   
The monster glared at her, but any response was cut off by Pendergast growling, “Where. Is. My. Wife.”   
“We are not the keepers of lost wives.” The ambassador monster huffed.

“Not you. Her.” Pendergast snapped. “Where is she?”   
There were suddenly a lot of pikes pointed at Dagmar.   
Dagmar held her hands behind her back. “I am just a humble ambassador. Who am I to track the movements of the queen?”   
The little monster startled. “_That’s_ the queen’s husband?”   
“That’s the queen’s husband.” Dagmar agreed.

“Queen?” Pendergast repeated. “Queen of what?”   
Dagmar bowed. “Ah, apologies. Empress would be more accurate.”   
The monster dug around a pouch slung over his shoulder, then presented a letter to Pendergast with a bow. “Your Majesty.”   
Pendergast stared at the letter. “…you have a lot of explaining to do. And _you_ are not leaving my sight until I verify that Bean’s okay.”   
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Dagmar shrugged. “I take care of my daughter.”

Pendergast snorted. “The fact that you’re here and she’s not is worrying enough on its own without your lies.”   
“If you don’t believe anything I say, what’s the point of me trying to ‘verify’ anything?” Dagmar asked, exasperated. “You’re as stubborn and bullheaded as Zog, and I can’t even have sex with you to shut you up.”   
Pendergast turned a strange shade of red. “You… Turbish, Mertz, escort her to the dungeon.”

Dagmar was reformed, but not without tricks. She threw down a packet of smoke pellets, and snuck away in the confusion. She had places to go, and it was never in her job description to placate Bean’s husband. She reached Bentwood within a week, about the same time that her things from the ship had been sent on. It made her seem more impressive than a vagabond.

She was admitted to the throne room. The throne of Bentwood was made of an enormous, gnarled piece of wood. On it sat a blonde woman in a pink dress, a child with a crown playing with a toy carriage on the floor.

She drew a sharp breath when she saw Dagmar. “Can I help you?”   
Dagmar bowed deeply. Much deeper than she had bowed to Pendergast. “I am the ambassador from Maru, my lady.”   
“Maru? We’ve never had dealings with Maru.” The queen frowned.   
Dagmar rose. “That is something that my daughter, the queen of Maru, would like to change.”

“Your daughter…?” The queen cocked her head. “And you must have been the queen once.”   
“I was.” Dagmar bowed her head in acknowledgment. “My daughter… thought I might recover from… well, I’ve recently been cleansed of a curse I’ve carried all my life, and I don’t know who I am without it. She sent me here to you so that I might be of service.”   
“Strange that she would send you to _me_…” The queen muttered, her eyes sweeping Dagmar.

“My daughter… there is some bad blood between you.” Dagmar shrugged. “On a personal level. Perhaps, a mother for a son is trade enough?”   
The queen was silent for a moment. “…so, you’re old Zog’s first wife. I would have thought you’d be older.”   
“I was stone for fifteen years. It does wonderful things for the skin.”

The queen laughed. “I suppose so. You were the one who turned Dreamland to stone?”   
Dagmar shrugged again. “I… regret a lot of my actions. I cannot bring myself to regret most things in Dreamland. No one was permanently hurt.”   
“You base what you feel guilt for on that?”   
“Yes.” Dagmar said. “I need somewhere to draw the line, lest I go insane.”

The queen laughed again, this time mirthlessly. “Then you’re better than your daughter. What’s your name, Ambassador of Maru?”   
“You know it already, my lady, but I am Dagmar.”   
“And I am Bunny. And this is my son, Lorenzo.” Bunny swept a hand towards the child on the floor.

Dagmar smiled. “I have always loved children.”   
Bunny’s eyes softened. “Truly?”   
“I was a mother to my younger siblings when our mother died. Why would I lie to you, my lady?”   
Bunny got off of the throne. “Please, _Ambassador_, call me Bunny. I think this is the start of something rather fun, don’t you?”

Dagmar let Bunny take her hand. It felt warm, and soft. It had never held a sword, and somehow, Dagmar liked that thought. “I like to think it would go beyond simple fun, my lady.”   
Bunny blushed. “You’re a bit bold, aren’t you?”   
Dagmar raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry if I’ve been improper, my lady.”   
“_Ambassador_, what have I said about calling me by my name? Surely you must listen to your queen’s commands?”

Dagmar’s response was cut off by a pig with a little crown strapped to its head. “Mummy I heard—oh God. Mummy, get away from her.”   
“Have we met?” Dagmar asked.   
“I spent five months alone with Zog after you turned Dreamland to stone.” Merkimer said frostily.   
“You have my most sincere condolences.” Dagmar replied.

Merkimer glared at her, then turned to Bunny. “Mummy, that’s the witch of Dreamland.”   
“Don’t be silly, the witch of Dreamland killed your brother. I admit they look similar, but Tiabeanie is obviously different from Dagmar.” Bunny said airily.   
“Mummy, she’s dangerous!” Merkimer said. “And if Dreamland finds out you’re harboring a fugitive—when _Pendergast_ finds out—you realize how much he loves that buck-toothed—”

“She is still my daughter.” Dagmar said frostily.   
Merkimer collected himself. “You kidnapped her.”   
Dagmar sighed, exasperated. “As I tried to explain to my son in law at the Dreamland port, she’s currently the Queen of Maru. She will be returning to Dreamland in a few weeks to collect said son in law, as well as her baby. My… my brother ran Maru into the ground. It’s her responsibility now.”

“Mummy, you can’t seriously believe her!” Merkimer squealed.   
Bunny raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”   
Dagmar smirked. “Indeed, why not? I’ve been nothing but honest.”   
Merkimer glared at her. “Right, when you were honest and you blamed Oona for turning people to stone—including Pendergast.”   
“In my defense, he wasn’t my son-in-law at the time.” Dagmar said. “Legally speaking, it was as moral as turning everyone else to stone was.”

“Mummy!” Merkimer huffed. “Get rid of her! She’s nothing but trouble!”   
“I am more than capable enough of handling trouble on my own.” Bunny huffed. “Thank you for your input, Merkimer, but I am not going to turn away a royal ambassador when that _woman_ is finally trying to make amends. Well, both of them, really.”

Merkimer glared at Dagmar, who smirked back, then he trotted away, back the way he came.


	23. The boys go on a field trip

He was a fool. A damned fool.

Dagmar was God knows where, still spreading her lies. Bean was still… somewhere he couldn’t get to her. Dead, or enslaved, or _something_ because she’d be here. Her letter to him was so brief—just reiterating the same things she’d said in those moments between him waking up and finding Stryker and Bolt’s bodies.

If it even was her.

Her letter to Emma was… substantially longer. Somewhat meandering as well. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to a daughter who’d lose her mother, things she’d probably wished Dagmar had said. Advice for growing up, advice for dealing with boys and drinking and things that were altogether inappropriate for his baby, but she just kept reiterating how much she loved him, and Emma throughout the middle of it.

He had compared the two letters. The handwriting was the same, but the words were different. He was a fool.

Whereas before in Bean’s absence he had been trying training Turbish and Mertz to take Stryker and Bolt’s places, now he drank like a fish. He was a mess.   
In one such incident, he stumbled into Luci’s Inferno, having been thrown out of another bar.   
“Pendergast?” The cat—demon—cat? Asked.   
He slammed down a coin on the counter. “My money’s as good as the rest, cat.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Are you okay?”   
“Do I look like I’m okay? …I need strong liquor. The kind they give you to knock you out _when they take your fucking eye_.”   
“Should we tell everyone to leave?” That was the elf, on his left.

“Nah, that’s only for you or Bean. Bean’s husband doesn’t apply.” The cat—demon? Said.   
Pendergast slid the coin to the demon. “Liquor.”   
“Jesus, you’re a sad drunk.” The demon muttered. He disappeared out of Pendergast’s eyeline, and returned with a brown bottle. “How’d you end up with Bean in the first place? She’s a _fun_ drunk.”   
“Mind your grammar, cat.” Pendergast took the bottle, and drank deeply. “_Was_. She _was_ a fun drunk.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s not really drinking anymore—” The cat said.   
Pendergast scoffed. “No, I mean she’s dead. Or… something. I don’t know. Dagmar’s still running around. Spreading lies. Bean’s not here—and why do you think that is, hmm? She’s dead. It’s all my fault, I should have-have tried to find her sooner.”

He took another deep swig, and the demon tried to pry it out of his hand. “I think you’ve had enough to drink, Pendergast.”   
He pulled the bottle away. “I say that. That’s not said to me. Besides, it’s still my fault so—leggo!”   
“Wow, you and Bean really are perfect for each other.” The elf commented. “Isn’t Bean queen of Maru or something now?”   
“S’a cover-up.” Pendergast muttered, having won the tug of war over the bottle. “Has anyone actually _seen_ Bean?”

“I wasn’t aware that the man who broke the siege of Bentwood needed his wife so much to turn into _this_ when she’s gone for a couple weeks.” The demon said.   
“But you said—” The elf started.   
The demon shut him up somehow. Pendergast didn’t care. “What, I’m just supposed to-to not care when my wife dies? Like _him_?” He spat.

“Ooh, now we’re getting into deep baggage. Who’s him?” The demon asked.   
“Him! Arwel ap Maredudd!” Pendergast took another swig of his drink.   
“I don’t know who that is.”   
“He’s not worth being called my father. He’s simply… the one who married my mother.” Pendergast muttered. “Not that he cared. He _never_ cared.”

“Huh… speaking of fathers, how’re you going to take care of Emma stone drunk?” The demon asked. “I mean, if you don’t want her, I’ll take care of her. I have a recipe for baby stew somewhere.”   
“You wouldn’t.” Pendergast said nonchalantly.   
“Yeah, and I thought I’d never see you come here _already_ drunk, and drink more.” The demon said. “Here we are.”

“Nah, you like Emma.” Pendergast said.   
“I don’t… _fine_. Since we’re being honest here, yes, your baby seems cute. I wasn’t aware human babies were that nice, actually.”   
“Aw.” The elf said. “Luci…”   
“And _in the interest_ of keeping your baby—Bean’s baby!—happy, you need to pull yourself together. Your father didn’t mourn your mother? Well, maybe he was trying to raise you.”

Pendergast had never heard anything so funny in all his life.   
“Maybe…” The elf tried. There was another burst of laughter.   
“Maybe you should try to be the father you never had, then.” The elf finally said. “Like… there for your child, and stuff.”   
“I… I can’t. Not without Bean.”   
“So Emma gets all, or nothing? Boo!” The demon called. “Stop the cycle of shitty parenting! Aren’t you the overprotective guy who flipped out when your wife took your baby to the docks?”   
“I _can’t_!” Pendergast hissed. “I can’t! I don’t have anything to work for!”   
The elf put a hand on his shoulder. “How about you work for revenge on Dagmar? If you’re so convinced Bean is dead… isn’t the queen of Maru supposed to be here soon? Then you’ll see if you’re right, in which case you can kill Dagmar, or you’re wrong, in which case, Bean’s okay.”

“Clean yourself up, and go get closure regarding your family stuff too.” The demon recommended. “And hey, if you’re right—and I don’t think you are—you’re not alone. Miri will probably help you.”   
“_Thanks_, Luci.” Mop Girl yelled across the bar.   
“Stop eavesdropping!” The demon yelled back. “Jesus, some people…”   
“I mean, you _could_ close the bar.” The elf pointed out.

“Again, Pendergast hasn’t earned that. You know what Pendergast _has_ earned? Crashing on our couch.” The demon said.   
Pendergast was led the elf out of the bar, up a flight of stairs, to an elf apartment. He was unconscious before he realized that his feet hung off of the couch, as did most of his shins.

He woke to his mouth feeling drier than if he’d eaten the beach, and the demon banging a pot with a spoon.   
“Jesus, what time is it?” Pendergast groaned, sitting up.   
“Time for you to get over yourself. So, you think Bean’s dead. If she is, we will personally help you get revenge on Dagmar.” The demon continued to bang on the pot, and the elf handed him a cup of water.

“Thank you.” Pendergast said to Elfo.   
“In the meantime, stop avoiding that ambassador guy that the ‘queen of Maru’ sent here.” The demon pointed the spoon at him. “I mean, the guy’s a bigger nerd than Elfo, but I’m pretty sure he’s writing everything down for when he can report back. Presumably, to Bean.”   
Pendergast leaned forward, his face in his hands. “Ugh, I’m never going to drink again… how did Bean _do_ that every night…?”   
“She went on benders, man. You’re in bed by 9pm like a grandma.” The demon poked him with the spoon repeatedly.

“So are you saying I should just go about my business?” Pendergast asked, before quickly grabbing the spoon.   
“Well, yeah, but not today.” Elfo chuckled like he knew a secret.  
“Right, I should spend time with my daughter.” Pendergast tried to stand up. Elfo blocked his way.  
“Yeah, that, and we got permission from the king to go on a road trip.” Elfo splayed out his hands. “Ta-da!”

“A road trip.” Pendergast repeated.   
The demon scampered onto his shoulder. “Yeah, we’re going to go see your awful dad so Emma can meet your side of the family.”   
Pendergast _did_ stand up this time, effectively knocking Elfo over. “No. No no no no. She’s not going anywhere _near_ them.”   
“Relax—you said it yourself, nothing’s gonna happen to her as long as I’m around.” The demon said, trying to get his spoon back.   
Pendergast held it out of his reach. “When did I say that?”

Luci scrambled down Pendergast’s arm, and retrieved the spoon. “Last night, when you were shitfaced.”   
“I don’t think that’s what I said.” Pendergast wrested the spoon from Luci easily.   
“No, I was sober, I remember.” Luci said. “C’mon, man. We’ll watch your back. I can’t tell you how many times we saved pulled Bean’s ass out of the fire.”   
Pendergast crossed his arms. “Name one—that you didn’t cause.”

“…he’s got us there, Luci.” Elfo pointed out. “Oh! There was that time I saved Bean from ogres.”   
“And why was she near ogres in the first place?” Pendergast asked.   
“To be fair, she and Elfo _volunteered_ to go find the magic berry doodad. _I_ played it safe, and set up a health barn in Elf Alley.” Luci said proudly.

“Did you have a license to do that?” Pendergast raised an eyebrow.   
“…I forgot who I was talking to.” Luci muttered. “Regardless, look at how much we annoy you! We’re sure to annoy your family members that you hate!”   
“I sincerely doubt that. I would honestly prefer to take the ambassador.” Pendergast muttered, picking Luci up and putting him down on the couch.

“Well, we already told the king that _we_ were going with you, so…” Elfo shrugged.   
“Besides, you owe us for letting you crash on our couch and helping you get your life back together.” Luci said. _“C’mon_.”   
“Fine.” Pendergast said. “You’re going to nag me into bringing Emma, aren’t you?”   
“Oh yeah.” Elfo said.

Thus, the three of them, plus Emma, rode out to Caer Griffith.   
“Man, it takes longer riding with you than with Bean.” Luci said from Pendergast’s head. “_Lame._”   
“I can’t control that.” Pendergast snapped. “Besides, it’s longer…” He trailed off.   
“From Dreamland to your home than from Dreamland to the Edge of the World?” Elfo asked.

“It’s not my home.” Pendergast hissed. They rode on in silence, getting to Caer Griffith the next day. Pendergast stabled his horse, then proceeded into the hall where his uncle was still lording over the peasants.   
It didn’t stop him from being noticed. “Dear God, boy. What happened to your face?”   
“I lost an eye, Uncle.” Pendergast ground out. “Do you know where my father is?”

His uncle ignored him. “So, the King sent you back when you were no longer useful? Typical of Zog.”   
“Watch your tongue, Uncle.” Pendergast snapped. “I am still a knight of the King.”   
His uncle’s eyes snapped to the bundle he was holding. “So, what then? You returned to foist your bastard off on us, ‘Knight of the King’?”   
“She’s not a bastard.” Pendergast growled. “I just want to speak to my father.”

His uncle cocked his head, then burst out laughing. “Surely, you’re not here to ask my brother for _parenting tips_?”   
Pendergast ground his teeth. “No. I’m here to ask him about my mother.”   
“The babe’s mother wasn’t available?” Pendergast’s uncle raised an eyebrow. “What sort of woman do you claim to have married, nephew?”

This was when Luci scampered onto Pendergast’s other shoulder. “Wow, news travels really slowly here, huh?”   
“Well, they didn’t know about the _eye_ thing.” Elfo muttered, stepping out from behind Pendergast.   
His uncle gasped. “Is that an elf? And a talking cat?”   
“Uncle! Focus. Where is my father?” Pendergast asked, snapping his fingers.

His uncle regarded him for a minute, then said, “Thomas? Show your brother to your father.”   
Pendergast stiffened.   
“As you say, Uncle.” A man stepped out of the shadows of the Uncle’s seat.   
“Wow, it’s like Pendergast but better.” Elfo said.

Indeed, Thomas was an inch taller than Pendergast, had the same ginger-brown hair and brown eye colour, the same muscular frame, and had both eyes.   
Thomas smirked as they left the room. “I am, aren’t I?”   
“In your dreams, maybe.” Pendergast muttered, behind him.

Thomas’ smirk quickly turned into a glare as he turned back to his brother. “Maybe I should see the newest member of our family, little brother.”   
“You’re not touching my daughter.”   
“Ah, brother, let me see.” Thomas said in a sing song voice. “Maybe she’s got your face, poor thing.”   
“Don’t _touch_ me—this is serious, Thomas!”

“Then let me see!”   
Unfortunately, it seemed that Emma was in danger. Indeed, Thomas slamming into his brother sent her flying—or should have. Both men turned in horror to see… what looked like a woman holding Emma.

She was incredibly pale, with black hair, sea-green at the roots. Kelp was molded to her body in the shape of a shirt—a familiar shirt, at that—netting was wrapped over and over itself in place of the leggings, and the boots seemed to be made out of splintered wood. Her eyes were dark as pitch, and Pendergast swore that he could see something else moving in them, like little fish in a pond. But more importantly, she had Bean’s face.

The woman yawned. **_“I’m supposed to be asleep right now, you know.”_**   
Pendergast scrambled away from his brother. “Bean…?”   
“This is really fucked up.” Elfo muttered to Luci.   
The woman blinked at him, before smiling. **_“Oh, you’re her Pen! No, I’m not Bean. I just…” _**The woman looked at her hands, legs, and turned her boots to see them. **_“Oh boy.” _**

“If you’re not Bean, what are you?” Pendergast said.   
**_“That… is incredibly complicated to explain.” _**The woman said. Was it just his imagination, or could he hear a seagull caw? But they were miles away from the sea? **_“But I’m here to protect Emma.” _**  
“D-demon!” Thomas stuttered.   
“No, that would be me, actually.” Luci said. “Hey, Shit Pendergast. You’d be dead now if anything happened to that baby, lucky you.”

“Why do you look like my wife?” Pendergast demanded. “What happened to Bean?”   
The woman blinked. **_“Well, right now she’s unconscious. I’m not supposed to have a form, I just… I have to help when my blood relatives are in danger like this. I admit, this is the first time I’ve been so corporeal in… centuries… and I think that’s really because of Bean—I’m rambling, aren’t I?” _**  
Emma began to cry, and Pendergast quickly took her back. “Is my wife okay?”   
**_“She’ll be fine once I return to her. I… it… this was draining for both of us. Do you want me to say anything to her before I go back to sleep?” _**  
“Demon!” Thomas said again, making his fingers into the sign of the cross. “Away with thee!”   
Not-Bean and Pendergast both turned to look at him.

“I love her. …is it really her? Dagmar didn’t…?” Pendergast asked, turning back to Not-Bean and bouncing the baby gently.   
**_“It’s really her.” _**Not-Bean smiled. **_“And Pendergast? She loves you too.” _**She pressed a watery kiss to his cheek, and then there was the scent of salt and the roar of the sea, and she was gone.   
Pendergast turned to his brother. “Are you happy now?”   
“You married a demon!” Thomas pointed at him.

“This guy just doesn’t get it, does he?” Luci asked.   
“I’m more concerned with what could have happened to Emma.” Pendergast said coldly. “My daughter was in such danger that it summoned… whatever that was.”   
Thomas had the grace to look deeply ashamed. “I… I’m sorry, Penny. I truly didn’t want to hurt your daughter, I just… I… I don’t know how to put it into words. We’ve always communicated through rough-housing, you know?”

Pendergast regarded him coolly. “It wasn’t rough-housing for me, it was survival. …here, support the head.” He handed his daughter to Thomas, who looked surprised, but did as he was told.   
Thomas laughed quietly. “She looks just like you.”   
Pendergast started. “I… everyone says she looks like Bean.”   
“No. The eyes are your wife’s… I suppose…” Thomas shuddered. “But that’s your face, I remember it as clear as day. Unfortunate, eh, brother?”

“Shove off.” Pendergast huffed. “It’s your face too.”   
“Uh… what’s happening? I thought we were going to kill this man for roughing up the baby? The baby you yelled at Bean for taking to the docks that one time? Why are we all now buddy buddy with this guy?” Luci asked, scrabbling to the top of Pendergast’s head and waving his hand in his face.   
“Can we call you Penny?” Elfo added.

Pendergast flushed in annoyance. _“No_.”   
“Can we call you Pen?”   
“Definitely not.”   
“Can we call you Gast?”

“_No_, you may call me Pendergast.”   
Thomas snickered. “Same old Penny.”   
Pendergast crossed his arms. “You haven’t called me that in years, _Tommy_.”   
“I… I am sorry. Not just because your demon… _demons_… just put the fear of God in me and my life flashed before my eyes. I… would you believe me if I said I thought this was a cabbage you wrapped up as a baby until I heard it cry?”

Luci burst out laughing. “I changed my mind. I want to keep Stupid Pendergast.”   
Pendergast pinched the bridge of his nose. “_Why_ would I have dressed up a cabbage as a baby?”   
“I don’t know, seems like it’d be something funny to do.”   
“Lord grant me patience… Thomas. When have I been funny? Especially when this is my first visit home in over six years?”

“More like seven.” Elfo added helpfully.   
Thomas shrugged. “Seems like you just left yesterday. Nothing much happens here, your return is the most interesting thing since Grandfather died. Add in a baby? It’d be an extra amount of success.”   
Pendergast very visibly was counting to ten under his breath. “Yes, success, that’s exactly what Uncle thought. Tommy, if you’re going to be stupid, give me back my daughter.”

Thomas obediently handed back the baby. “Was it really so awful here, Penny?”   
“Yes.” Pendergast said, not looking at his brother. “And you know that, because the last time you called me Penny was before the incident with the well.”   
“Well, your leg’s fine now!” Thomas protested, before placing a hand on the back of his neck. “I… I’ve never… I’m sorry, Penny.”   
“Apologies only let you hold the baby once.” Pendergast huffed. “But… thank you. I think I needed that.”

“Aw, Penny, you’ve always been the sensitive one.” Thomas grinned.   
“I’d say Pendergast being sensitive is like Elfo being a badass, but given that you were drunk off of your ass two nights ago because you thought Bean was dead, I guess I’m willing to believe it.” Luci said, still perched on top of Pendergast’s head.

“Tommy, just show me where Dad is.” Pendergast sighed, ignoring Luci. “I have something to ask him.”   
“What kind of stuff?” Thomas asked. “Uncle’s right, you’re probably… better off not asking him how to raise your daughter.”   
“Wow, it’s almost like the violence between you two was encouraged by outside forces pitting you against one another instead of positively reinforcing you, leading Thomas to become jealous of his brother’s successes and Pendergast to become distrustful of outside reinforcement. Your father’s neglect does indeed seem like something Pendergast wouldn’t want to replicate, but given how he treats Emma, I doubt that will happen, even if his craving for his older brother’s approval _is_ clouding his better judgment at the moment.” Elfo said. Everyone looked at him. “What? I can be smart.”

“Hell yeah you can. I’m going with you.” Luci nimbly leapt off of Pendergast’s head.   
Thomas shrugged, bringing them back to their previous topic. “This time of day… Father should be in the training yard.”   
“Why am I not surprised?” Luci commented.

Pendergast followed his older brother to a muddy yard. Arwel was training alone, up against a training dummy the size of Pendergast.   
“Father?” Thomas called. “There’s someone here to see you.”   
“Unless it’s the king himself, I’m busy, boy.”   
“It’s the king’s granddaughter, if that helps.” Pendergast said.

Thomas stared at Pendergast. Arwel laughed without turning around. “The king’s old enough to have a granddaughter? Jesus Christ above.”   
“Well, so are you.” Pendergast said.   
Arwel finally turned, and saw that both of his sons were standing there. Apparently their voices were similar enough as well that he had thought it was only Thomas speaking. “Gods above, boy. What happened to your face?”

“Took an arrow for the king years ago.” Pendergast huffed.   
“That why you could get away with knocking up his daughter?” Arwel boomed out a laugh.   
Pendergast ground his teeth. “No, I married her first.”   
Thomas’ jaw dropped.

“To be fair, there _was_ a sex scandal beforehand.” Luci said. “They kinda _had_ to get married.”   
“Pen-Pen-_Penny_?” Thomas stammered. _“Penny_ had a sex scandal with the princess? I thought he was married to that water witch!”   
“Nah, sounds like the water witch only occasionally uses his wife as a vessel.” Luci said.   
Arwel was still laughing.   
Thomas clapped Pendergast on the back. “You’re a braver man than me, Penny.”

“Jesus fucking… _look_, Father. Was Mother a Sidhe?”   
Arwel abruptly stopped laughing. “Lynette? A fae creature? Are you addled, boy?”   
Pendergast sighed. “Well, the water… _thing_ said I’m part Sidhe. I’m guessing it came from Mother’s side. …you know what, this was a mistake. Why would I expect you to know anything about her, you didn’t care when she died.”

“Hold your tongue, boy.” Arwel growled. “When Lynette was taken from me, my world fell apart.”   
“And so you threw yourself into work, much like Pendergast did when Bean first disappeared, or really when anything bad happens in his life.” Elfo surmised.   
_“Or_, like when he finally turned to alcohol after coming to the conclusion that she was really, truly dead.” Luci added.   
Thomas looked like he had a million questions. Pendergast flushed with embarrassment, before growling at Arwel, “You loved her _so much_ that you ignored her sons! _Your_ sons! We were grieving too, but you didn’t care! You never cared!”   
“Pot, kettle.” Elfo muttered.

Pendergast finally whipped around and glared at him. “I am not so far gone as to abandon my daughter for years on end, and you’d be good to remember that, _elf_.”   
Arwel slammed his sword into the dirt and stalked over. He also looked a lot like Pendergast, again as tall as Thomas, with graying ginger-brown hair and a gray-streaked beard. “You have a problem with the way that I raised you, boy?”

“No sir.” Thomas muttered.   
“I wasn’t talking to you, boy!” Arwel roared. “I was talking to your shit of a younger brother, who comes into my house and accuses me of being a shit father while his cat says he did the same things!”   
“Did! Did! I am not _continuing_ to be a shit father!” Pendergast growled back. “And I _regret_ that. I treasure my daughter so, so much. You’ve never treasured anything, least of all Mother! Least of all _us_! You never cared, and all the posturing in the world won’t prove that!”

Arwel deflated slightly. “You think I don’t have regrets, boy? I regret so many things. I didn’t show her I loved her until it was too late. I never… I thought she knew. I’m not a man of words, boy. I taught you both the only thing I could ever do, and that’s fight.”   
“I’m gonna go ahead and call this one, ‘sad Pendergast’.” Luci said.   
“That’s also just regular Pendergast.” Elfo pointed out.

Arwel and Pendergast shot them both incredibly similar glares.   
“So… _was_ Mother part Sidhe?” Thomas finally asked.   
Arwel sighed. “I thought it was a story. You know how men try and talk up their daughters to get you to marry them.”   
Pendergast shook his head, and Thomas looked confused.

“…right, I forgot who I was talking to.” Arwel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a very Pendergast-like way. “When I was considering Lynette for marriage, her father took me aside and said that if she was ever… odd… or if we were ever to have odd children, it might be because her mother was a Sidhe woman.”   
“That seems pretty straight forward!” Pendergast hissed.   
“Are we odd?” Thomas asked. “No odder than cousin David, right?”

Arwel rolled his eyes. “The old man would have said anything to get his daughter married off. No one knew who her mother was—according to him, he had lain with a Sidhe woman one day, and months later she turned up on his doorstep with a baby. He may have legitimized his bastard, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t trying to trick me.”   
“Who talks this way about a woman they loved?” Pendergast seethed.

“All I’m saying is that it was a lie! Pendergast, would you say that your wife is an ethereal beauty? No, you’re a realistic man!”   
Pendergast shifted Emma on his shoulder, rubbing her back. “My wife appears to be possessed by the ocean. I’m in charge of her best friends, a demon and an elf respectively. My mother in law is a witch who once turned me to stone. _Ethereal_ is an understatement, if anything.”   
“You can’t…” Arwel sighed. “I’ve just told you all I know about it. You have your answer now.”

“So… did you ever ask Mother about _her_ mother?” Thomas asked.   
“She would have repeated the same lies as her father.” Arwel shrugged.   
“You didn’t love her.” Pendergast said.   
“O-kay, we’re back to this.” Thomas muttered. “Oh joy.”

“Who are you to say if I loved her or not, boy?” Arwel growled. “I was a fighter, not a lover.”   
“You didn’t love her, because you didn’t _trust_ her to ever ask! You didn’t trust in what might have been the truth—and you may have mourned her, but you never loved her. And you want to know how I know? Because I am married to the love of my life. She’s not perfect, and I’m not perfect, but we’re perfect for each other. I love her snorting laughter. I think she’s gorgeous, and I’m thankful every day that she chose _me_. She challenges me, and I do my best to challenge her. She makes me smile. And I want nothing more than to be with her and to make her happy. _That_ is love. And I am not a green boy, Father. I have seen war. I can be _both_. I can fight for her, and I can come back to her and _love_. I won’t listen to your excuses any longer.”

“Wha-bam!” Elfo said. “Take that, old Pendergast!”   
“Don’t ruin this for me.” Pendergast said.   
“Understood.” Elfo muttered.

“What do you want me to say, boy?” Arwel asked.   
“Sorry would be a good start.” Pendergast replied. He handed the baby to Elfo, and stood still, arms by his sides. “But you won’t, will you? No, you want to strike me for saying such a thing. Go on then. _Do it_. It won’t change anything.”   
“You’re a cruel, thoughtless child!” Arwel hissed.

“And you’re a shit father who makes excuses!” Pendergast shot back. “Hit me! It’s never stopped you before! Or is it different now that I’m a man?”   
Arwel swung.   
Pendergast’s fist came up and blocked it. He dropped his father’s hand as if it scalded him. “That’s what I thought. Thomas?”   
“Penny?”

“Send me a letter when he dies. I’ll come pay my respects.” Pendergast said. “Don’t expect to see me back here before then.”   
They rode away from Caer Griffith thirty minutes later.   
“So… that was a weird power play thing with you and your dad.” Elfo commented.   
“Not a power play. A choice.” Pendergast said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bean also has a tendency to warp places slightly, not just time. 
> 
> Thomas is unmarried, and you know, it COULD be for the same reasons as Pendergast. It's not. Thomas isn't straight ~but that's not relevant to Bean's journey~ (or Pendergast's, really).


	24. Home Stretch

A Maruvian junk was pulling into the harbor as Pendergast approached the gate. Not that he noticed it, given the position of said gate.   
“Do either of you want me to drop you off somewhere?” Pendergast asked as Bean stepped off of the ship—well, really jumped—onto the dock.

“Welcome back, princess!” A dock worker called.   
“Thanks!” She waved back, before making her way towards the castle. She grabbed the town crier on the way. “Hey, have you seen Pendergast?”   
“Uh… not recently.” Last time he’d seen Pendergast, he’d been drunk and ranting about his wife being dead.  
“Aw man, okay. Hey, my ambassador told you about announcing me to my Dad and stuff, right?”

The town crier sighed. “Yes. Where is your list of epithets?”   
Bean handed him a piece of paper.   
“Jesus, this is long…” The town crier muttered. “Alright then, to the castle.”

Pendergast was a street away at this point.   
“Well, as happy as we were to meet Stupid Pendergast and Old Pendergast, unfortunately, this trip was kinda boring.” Luci said as he slid off the horse.   
Pendergast shrugged. “Maybe. But… thank you. For having me go.”   
“I mean, we were really only there for an hour, maybe half an hour.” Elfo said as Pendergast picked him up and set him down on the ground.

“I feel like that hour was essential for closure regarding a lifetime of pain.” Pendergast replied.   
“You’re weird.” Luci said.   
“Well, at least you got a vacation!” Elfo said.   
Pendergast shrugged. “I love my job almost as much as I love my wife and child.”

“What if something happened to your job?” Luci asked. “I think you need a hobby.”   
Pendergast raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for your advice. A good sword is always necessary though, as is the man to wield it.”   
“Have you been practicing that?” Elfo asked.

“No, it’s some of Arwel’s wisdom.” Pendergast said, with minimal tensing. “…I should get Emma back, she’s going to be hungry, and I’m out of the bottles we brought.”   
“Yeah, what’s she been eating since Bean’s gone? Is she okay?” Luci’s tail swiped nervously as he scurried around to see Emma, strapped to Pendergast’s back.   
“Uh… cow’s milk mostly, I think.” Pendergast said. “She seems to be doing fine. I think we’ll all be relieved when Bean’s back, though.”

Bean, meanwhile, had reached the castle. She pushed the herald into the throne room, and gave him a little kick. He sighed, then began to read it off. “Presenting her royal highness, Queen Tiabeanie Mariabeanie de la Rochambeau Grunkwitz of Maru, Princess of Dreamland, the royal formerly known as Bean, one-time ambassador to Dankmire, defeater of Vikings, vessel of the Great Old One, the Chosen One of Maru…”

Bean tuned out her list of epithets, peeking into the room. Her ambassador was there, listening attentively, as was Derek. Zog was looking impatient, but he wasn’t going to push it. Where was Pendergast…?   
She heard a horse enter the courtyard, but she was still scanning the room—was he in a corner somewhere?

She was surprised, to say the least, when she was quickly turned around, and was kissed. She was a bit less surprised when she realized who it was, and closed her eyes, smiling as much as she could.   
“Hi.” She said as Pendergast pulled away.   
“Hi.” He replied, cupping her face in his hands. “I missed you so much…”

“…Slayer of those weird people in the woods, finder of the eternity pendant, navigator of the Cave of the Single Trap, fixer of Dagmar, a woman who is not defined by her father, brother, husband or child, step-daughter of Oona, granddaughter of Lavinia and Inge, finder of the Legend-berry, dragon-slayer, survivor of childbirth, Creator of Storms…”

“Who could they be talking about?” Pendergast laughed.   
Bean stuck out her tongue at him. “Don’t be rude.”   
“At least you didn’t add ‘the humble’ to your list of epithets.” Pendergast grinned, moving his hands to her waist.   
“Yeah, yeah, where’s my freakin’ daughter?” Zog finally yelled.

The doors opened to show Bean and Pendergast embracing.   
“And Sir Pendergast.” The town crier hurriedly added. “Breaker of the Siege of Bentwood—”   
“Can it.” Zog ordered, as Bean turned towards the room, still in Pendergast’s embrace.   
The town crier looked incredibly relieved.

“Hi Dad.” Bean waved. She didn’t make a move to leave Pendergast’s arms, and he rested his head on top of hers. “Hey, Derek.”   
“We were so worried!” Derek said. “Especially Pendergast.”   
Bean chuckled. “Sappy dork. I told you everything was going to be okay.”   
“Well, it turned out I needed to see _the creator of storms_ to actually believe it wasn’t a trick by Dagmar. Especially when Dagmar actually turned up.”

“What? When was Dagmar here? Pendergast, you kinda gotta tell me these things.” Zog said.   
“Actually Dad, I’m taking Pen and Emma back to Maru with me. This was just sorta… to make sure everything’s alright, get some people, and…” Bean shrugged. “I have a lot of work to do.”   
Zog’s moustache drooped. “I thought the whole point of you marryin’ Pendergast in the first place was that you didn’t want to leave Dreamland.”

Bean hesitated, then said, “I think I’m ready to be more than just the alcoholic princess now. Besides, the only other person who could feasibly rule Maru right now is Dagmar and… I can’t. I can’t for the people of Maru, and I can’t do that to Dagmar. Besides, how hard can it be to rule a kingdom?”

“…yeah, I definitely have to go with you. For _your_ safety.” Pendergast muttered into her hair.   
“Beanie, you’ve grown up so much from when I last saw you. I’m proud of you.” Zog said. “And if your freakin’ husband would let go of you for a minute, I’d hug you.”   
“I’m not _stopping_ you from hugging her.” Pendergast said defensively.   
“Did you just sass my dad? Wow, I must have been gone longer than I thought.” Bean muttered.

“So how long are you going to stay here?” Derek asked.   
“Uh… well, I haven’t really been _crowned_ in Maru yet… a week maybe? I don’t really want someone seizing power while I’m gone, y’know?”   
“Yeah, I left for a weekend, and a Viking took over while I was gone.” Zog ground out.   
“Okay, fair, but I handled that.” Bean pointed out. “And the next one.”

“Hey! Everybody helped out with the second one.” Zog pointed out.   
“I’m just glad you’re home, Bean. The castle wasn’t the same without you.” Derek said.   
Bean scratched the back of her head. “Well… speaking of the castle not being the same… I’m going to ask Bunty and Miri if they want to come.”   
“Who’s Miri?” Zog asked Derek.   
“Mop Girl.”

“Aw, Bean! You’re upsetting the whole system there!” Zog cried out. “Next, you’ll say you’ll take your elf friend and your talking cat!”   
“I mean, yeah, Dad. If they want to come, they’re coming.”   
“And you’re taking my granddaughter? Bean, it’s too much.”   
“I’m taking my daughter, yeah. I mean…” Bean put her hand on the back of her neck, before turning again. “Jeez, I hadn’t even considered… Pen? Do you want to come? Be a prince consort or something?”

“I mean, I would follow you to the ends of the Earth—and I _have_, and you left me there, thanks for that—and I’m still here, so of course. If you’ll have me.” Pendergast kissed the top of her head, squeezing her waist. “Until death do we part, remember?”   
Bean grinned. “Yeah. Then I’m definitely taking Emma and Pen. Hey, I’ll still come visit. Maybe even with… other grandkids.” Bean turned her head to say to Zog.

Zog sighed. “This is still a better deal than if I’d married you off to one’a the Bentwood brothers, isn’t it? Fine, you have my blessing an’ everything. Go on, pack up all your stuff and go runnin’ off to Maru, or wherever…”   
Bean finally pulled away, and moved over to her dad, pulling him into a hug. “Thanks Dad.”   
“You would have done it anyway, so I don’t know why you needed my permission.”

“Not permission—a blessing.” Bean replied. “Get over here, Derek. Where is Emma, anyway?”   
“She’s been strapped to my back the entire time. We went to go visit her other grandfather and her other uncle.” Pendergast answered, unslinging Emma and holding her in his arms instead.

Bean glanced at him. “You okay?”   
“I’m fine. But hey, your majesty, if you’re looking for a replacement for me, I _do_ have an older brother. The de—the _talking cat_ called him Stupid Pendergast.”   
“That’s a mouthful. What’s his people name?” Zog asked.   
“Thomas.”

“How’d your dad name a kid Thomas and the other kid Pendergast?” Derek asked.   
Pendergast shrugged, leaning against a nearby pillar.   
“It was his mother’s maiden name.” Bean answered, breaking away from the family hug to take her baby.   
Everyone stared at her.

“How… do you know that?” Pendergast asked.   
Bean looked up at him, surprised. “Didn’t you?” Pendergast shook his head, and Bean shrugged. “Uh… lucky guess?”   
“It has to do with you being able to move time, doesn’t it?” Derek asked. “And something I’m guessing with yesterday, when Father and I both felt dizzy.”

“You felt dizzy? I got knocked out.” Bean scoffed. “Woke up to the crew freaking out.”   
“I wonder what caused it.” Derek mused.   
Bean sighed. “So… remember how the town crier said that I’m a vessel of the Great Old One, or something like that? It took form for a bit.”

“What did it look like?” Derek asked excitedly.   
“Well, I think my brother shit himself, which was honestly great considering the fact that it was his fault Emma was in danger.” Pendergast deadpanned. “But mostly it just looked like Bean.”   
“Aw.” Derek said.   
Bean shot Pendergast a look, and he shrugged, then offered her his arm. “There’s still time for you to join me for the evening rounds, princess.”

She laughed. “Of course. I missed Dreamland almost as much as I missed you.”   
They left together, arms linked, both smiling.   
“So we’re not gonna tell her about how Pendergast spiraled without her?” Zog asked.   
“That’s none of my business.” Derek replied.


	25. Epilogue

Leather boots clicked on the polished stone floor. Their owner glanced around, then ducked inside a large, stone door. The door that she had specifically been prohibited from entering—and not that she wasn’t a rule follower; her father had made sure she was. It was just that leaving an unlocked ‘prohibited’ door in the palace was a recipe for disaster, and if she didn’t go in, someone else (multiple someones) would.

…and she wanted to see the painting.   
The painting had a smiling, white-haired pregnant woman sitting on a chair. Behind her was her smiling, ginger husband. Next to him, a placid smile on her face, was their oldest daughter. Two children sat in front of the chair.

Quite honestly, this painting scared the owner of the boots. Not because it was haunted, or anything similar—no matter what her twin younger siblings would probably say—but because it was so like _theirs_. She slipped out of the door again, and walked down a hall—a hall she had absolutely every right to be in, except that it was the middle of the night.

She stopped in front of a portrait she’d memorized, its edges glinting in the moonlight, and she sat in front of it. Again, there was the smiling, white haired pregnant woman, even if this time the blue dress was a shirt and leggings and boots. Again there was the smiling, ginger-brown haired husband standing behind her, ready to leap into action to defend his wife. Again, two children lounged in front of the chair, and again the eldest daughter stood next to her father.

Emma stared at her own face in the picture. She wasn’t smiling—she looked deeply uncomfortable standing there, in armor. And that, Emma supposed, was the biggest difference—she and Dagmar were two completely different people, two different paintings. Dagmar in her painting was a picture of grace in a purple gown. Emma was stiff, and desperately hadn’t wanted to be there.

She wasn’t pretty, not like her younger sister. Adelaide, the younger twin to Alfred, had large, doe like brown eyes and platinum blonde hair. Admittedly, so did Alfred, but as far as Emma knew, no one was sending envoys to ask for his hand in advance.

Emma was tall and lanky, with her father’s bone structure. She had a strong jaw, an aquiline nose, and she didn’t have the soft white curls of her mother and Addie. She had the same ginger-brown hair that her father’s family had. It didn’t matter if you were a man, she supposed. But on her, her hair looked like straw. Muddy straw. What man would want an ugly, mannish woman, even if she came with a kingdom?

She got up off of the floor, and started making her way to the kitchens. Hopefully, Nana Bunty had left out some manner of food for the twins in case they got hungry to stop them from raiding the cupboards. A mostly futile gesture, but it might work.   
Instead, she arrived to see her uncles sitting in the dark.

Not Thomas and Derek, thank God, but Luci and Elfo.   
“Hello, Emma.” Luci said in his most serious voice.   
“Wh-why’re you up? Midnight snack?” Elfo’s eyes darted around the dark room nervously.

Emma lit a torch. “Uncles. I assume you know why I’m here.”   
“You’re running away!” Elfo blurted out.   
Emma nodded once. “Glad to see you’re up to speed.”

“Okay, listen up. Your parents are going to _freak out_.” Luci said, hopping up onto the table.   
“Dad will freak out.” Emma corrected. “And then he’ll understand, because you two are going to tell him I’m coming back.”   
“Why drag us into it—wait, you’re coming back?”

“Once I find a blind nobleman who doesn’t mind having a woman who can fight for a wife, yes.” Emma said.   
Luci gave a growl of frustration. “You’re seventeen! Why do you need to focus on marriage?”   
“Because it will give me something of my own!” Emma shot back. “Some way _I_ can be valued! As more than just the daughter of Tiabeanie the Great, the daughter of the breaker of the Siege of Bentwood, as more than just, ‘well, she’s pretty, but have you seen her younger sister?’”   
“Okay, who’s making those comments about Addie?” Luci asked. “Give me names, and I’ll give them to your dad.”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s not important—stop giving me that look, I handled it! The point is that I need to go find someone capable of loving me.”   
“You’re seventeen!” Elfo echoed Luci from earlier.   
“My mother was fourteen when she met my father.” Emma pointed out. “Same age that Addie and Freddie are now.”   
“That is in _no way_ relevant!” Luci huffed. “She didn’t _marry_ him until—no, you know what? She didn’t even like him until she was _nineteen_. As a person, not even romantically!”

Emma shrugged. “I never said I’d marry them immediately. I’m just going to find them.”   
“You’re going to go find some asshole, and just _hope_ he improves within a few years?” Luci demanded. “Alone?”   
“Of course not.” Emma huffed. “I’m leaving with the Bentwood delegation. Two days ago, Prince Merkimer asked my parents if they’d consider King Lorenzo II as a husband for me. Now, they said he’s too old, but presumably by traveling around, I can find someone willing to marry me. In the future.”

“How do you even know that?” Elfo asked, scandalized.   
Emma squirmed uncomfortably. “The twins have a secret passage that they use behind the throne room to listen in on conversations we’re excluded from.”   
Luci gasped. “I don’t even know you anymore. Sneaking around, running away—maybe you’re not just Girl Pendergast!”   
“Thanks, Uncle Luci.” Emma deadpanned. “You two are welcome to come if you want, but I’m leaving.”   
Elfo looked at Luci. “If we go with her, we can stop her from falling in with a _bad crowd_.”

“Elfo? _We_ were the bad crowd.” Luci deadpanned.   
“You were! I wanted to keep Bean good!” Elfo gasped.   
“No, you wanted to mold her into what you wanted, and you wanted to… hey!” Emma was pulling bread out of the cupboard.   
“Sorry, I thought you two were busy arguing.”

She didn’t seem sorry at all.   
“Do you really trust us to keep you safe?” Luci asked.   
Emma snorted. “No. But you’ll still worry about my safety, won’t you? So why not come?”   
“You’re just trying to get us to not rat you out to your parents, aren’t you?” Elfo asked. “…actually, Bean from when we first met her would probably be proud.”

“But current Bean’s going to be mad.” Luci pointed out.   
“Are you two with me, or are you going to go back to sleep and pretend this never happened?” Emma asked, before squinting at them. “How did you even know I was planning this?”   
“You’re not the only one who can eavesdrop.” Elfo pointed out. “We heard you and Merkimer chatting.”   
“Why would you _ever_ agree to go _anywhere_ with a strange man old enough to be your father?” Luci asked.

“Well, because he’s an animal, and my parents seem to trust him enough to let him near my and my siblings?” Emma tried. “If you’re so worried, why didn’t you tell my parents?”   
Luci crossed his arms. “We wanted to trust you—”   
“We totally did.” Elfo replied.

“And that. Yeah.” Luci agreed.   
Emma growled in frustration, then turned on her heel, dousing the torch in a bucket of water used for potential fires in the kitchen. She then stormed out of the room.

She didn’t encounter anyone else as she slipped down to the port, though as she approached the Bentwood ship, she saw torchlight and heard raised voices.

“I’m telling you, she’s not here.” Merkimer whined.   
Emma cursed under her breath, strapped her bag to her back firmly, and waited to make her next move.   
“That doesn’t mean she won’t turn up.” Pendergast snapped. “What were you thinking, telling our daughter you’d ‘take her to see the world’?”   
“Do you listen in on all of your guests?” Merkimer asked. “That’s bad behavior.”

“No, but Luci and Elfo were the ones listening anyway.” Pendergast snapped. “Where’s our daughter, Merkimer?”   
“I don’t know! She must have decided to stay in your warm, smothering arms!” Merkimer squealed.   
Emma peeked out from behind a corner. Pendergast was glaring up at the ship, crossing his arms.   
Bean was massaging her temples. “Merkimer, what did you even want our _teenager_ for, anyway?”

“As I said, my brother—”   
“We _told_ you we’re not marrying her to a _twenty one _year old—one that has his own kingdom, when she’s set to rule after Bean!” Pendergast snapped.   
Merkimer rolled his eyes. “As I recall, _you_ married _your_ princess when you were twenty two. And she agreed with your assessment, she said something about finding a man to love her or something.”

Pendergast looked like he was going to explode. “She…! She’s _seventeen_—why would—what did you _say_ to her?!”   
“Pen! Pen, _calm down_.” Bean said. “Why don’t you take the guards and go check around for her? I’ll stay here.”

Pendergast calmed down a bit. “Okay. Okay…”   
He and most of the torchlight moved away. Emma shifted uncomfortably in her hiding spot, until Bean called, “You can come out now.”   
Emma poked her head around the corner again, to see her mother looking right at her. “…how’d you know I was there?”

“Because you’re as stubborn as Pendergast, and just as subtle?” Bean raised an eyebrow. “And I saw you coming.”   
Emma flushed, and came out from behind the house.   
“Amazing. Think of what a pair we would have made—” Merkimer began.   
“Shush.” Bean told him.

Merkimer shushed.   
“Why do you feel like you need to run away?” Bean asked softly. “You… you’re not like me. You have responsibilities, you’re good with your siblings, your father and I have always tried to give you so much love… why…?”   
“Because performing my duty still doesn’t mean that there’s anything that’s _mine_.” Emma said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and ready to launch into her speech.

Bean stopped her. “Okay, maybe you’re exactly like me. Do you really want to go see the world?”   
“More than anything.” Emma said.   
Bean pulled her into a hug. “Okay. Okay, then. Go, with my blessing. I’ll talk to your dad. Come home in a few months though, okay? And send letters. We love you so much, Emma.”

Emma leaned into the hug. “I love you too, Mom. Um… Dad’s going to be okay, right?”   
“Oh yeah.” Bean grinned, pulling away. “You’re just his favorite, it’s going to be a bit hard for him to adapt to your absence. Go on.”   
Emma walked up the gangplank.   
“Glad to have you aboard.” Merkimer said.

“I think you should raise anchor before Pen gets back.” Bean grinned.   
“Oh, yes, of course. Captain! Make ready to sail!” Merkimer called, trotting away.   
Emma waved at her mother as the ship pulled away until she could no longer see her.

Merkimer trotted back. “Now, princess… since I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart, I have a favor to ask you.”   
“Yes, sir?” Emma asked.   
Merkimer bowed his head. “I mean this in an entirely platonic manner, but could you see if a kiss from you—by no means does it have to be on the mouth, indeed I’d prefer if it wasn’t!—could you just see if it breaks my curse?”

“Why not on the mouth?” Emma asked. She didn’t particularly want to kiss him either, seeing as he was old and a pig, but still, why was he objecting to _her_?   
“Because you’re old enough to be my daughter and your father has enough reasons to hate me.” Merkimer pointed out.   
Emma relaxed. “Oh. I thought it was… the face.”   
“That’s not for me to say, my lady, but… confidence makes everyone more attractive.” Merkimer pointed out. “If you worry about that sort of thing, I’m not telling you for my benefit. Again, as old as your father, if not older.”

“That’s… a very kind thing for you to say, Prince Merkimer.” Emma leaned over and gave him a quick peck on top of the head.   
Maybe it was the words—few had called Merkimer kind before, and even less since. Maybe it _was_ the kiss. But a bright light began to shine, so bright that Emma had to shield her eyes.

Both Dreamland and Bentwood were in for a massive shock.

**Fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you still want to get your Beandergast fix, check out 'Love for Dipshits' if you haven't already, by taffee23, 'A Grimm Fate' by me, or 'Luci Lies to Children', which is a one-shot which takes place between this and 24. (Also by me, obviously.) 
> 
> I'm probably not going to write a sequel for this one, but one-shots and cameos of this universe might pop up (like in 'A Grimm Fate', because I have a hard time letting go of sequel-children, as my really old Wattpad stories can attest). I might if there's enough demand for a story about Pendergast tracking down his daughter who's hanging out with Merkimer, but ultimately? I don't really know how to write Bean as a mom, so... 
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for reading guys. I never thought it would get this popular, and you've all been so sweet!

**Author's Note:**

> So in this world, it's about... 1200s? I'll expand more on fashion choices and trading later, but it's obviously not completely in the 1200s. In several respects, Dreamland is ahead of the times. In others... not as much. 
> 
> In this world, England (where I'm setting it, because according to me Dreamland is now on the edge of Wales and Cornwall) was never unified, and as such there are many tiny kingdoms scattered all over; including Dankmire, Dreamland, and Bentwood. Because everyone has access to magic, war doesn't necessarily have the same rules, so conquering your neighbours is actually incredibly hard.


End file.
